Serpents and Swindlers
by Rachel L Driscoll
Summary: When tales of counterfeiters hit the town of Stockton, the Barkley's learn that snakes aren't just the kind that wriggle around on their bellies - althought there are plenty of that kind, too! AU 6th Rachel Barkley story. Please R
1. The Counterfeit Money

**Hey there, folks! Another story at last! Sorry for the delay! As you know I am very busy at the moment with working at the stables (I've been offered an apprenticeship for next year!) and I've also just started rehearsing for a show (I'm the maid, and a couple of extras in 'The Railway Children! My sister is the main part: Bobbie Waterbury!), so I am working non-stop at the moment, and don't have much time for writing!**

**First I want to say a huge thankyou to Nina and mkat for their great story ideas. I look forward to using them all to write my stories (just once again, please forgive me if it takes me a while to get around to writing them!). I have every intention of using all of your story ideas that you gave me, as well as my own ideas, too - you'll just have to excuse me if it takes me a while to write them all!**

**Phew, all that being said, I just want to say I hope you all enjoy this story as much as all the others. Rachel D :-)**

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**Serpents and Swindlers**

**Chapter 1 - The Counterfeit Money**

Heath ambled out of the newspaper store, reading the Stockton Eagle that he held in his hands. He was so focused on the contents of the paper that he didn't see Mr. Bridgeman walking right towards him, carrying his person as a declaration of how popular and important he was in Stockton. Heath bumped right into Mr. Bridgeman, making the older man step back in affront, dropping his briefcase at the same time.

"Oh, pardon me, Mr. Bridgeman," Heath said. "I didn't see you there. I was just reading about the circulation of counterfeit money in the paper, and didn't see you coming. I guess I should have been looking where I was going."

"That's quite alright," Mr. Bridgeman said in an irritated manner, hurriedly stooping down to pick up his briefcase. In its fall, the case had come undone, so Mr. Bridgeman quickly fastened it back up. Despite his haste, he hadn't been quick enough to hide the contents from Heath's view.

"You always carry all your money around with you?" Heath asked, insinuating to the case where, just now, he had seen rows of neatly bundled hundred dollar bills. "It seems to me the safest place for all that money would be in a bank!"

"Well that, _Mr. Barkley_, is none of your business!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry," Heath said. "Here," he added, quickly spying one of the hundred dollar bills on the floor and picking it up. "You dropped this one."

Mr. Bridgeman hesitated, and then snatched the money from Heath's hand, hurriedly stomping off with punctuated irritation.

Heath shook his head. Mr. Bridgeman was a popular man, but when he got his dander up, then he was unbearable! With another shake of the head, Heath returned to his paper.

"_As the rise in counterfeit money increases, our agents have informed us that the counterfeited money is all in one hundred dollar bills," _he read on. Heath paused. One hundred dollar bills! Why, Mr. Bridgeman had hundred dollar bills in his briefcase! Surely, _surely _they weren't counterfeit. Heath stopped dead in his tracks as he realized the accusation that such an idea made. It was denouncing a leading citizen of Stockton as a base and swindling cheat! How could he accuse a man of something like that when all he saw was some money in his briefcase? Heath continued walking towards his horse, folded the paper up, and put it in his pocket. He certainly didn't like to say it – but something told him that his suspicions were far from wrong!

* * *

"Well, it's certainly nice to have you all here before dinner," Victoria said, seating herself down in the living room with the rest of the family. "How has today served each one of you?"

"Well, you know I went to a meeting at the orphanage, and then helped look after some of the children today," Audra said. "Rachel came with me and helped look after them, too."

"Well isn't that nice!" Jarrod said, smiling encouragingly at Rachel. "Did you enjoy it?"

"They're so sweet," Rachel said. "They have so little – nothing, even. I just feel like I want to hold them close and keep them safe from any more sadness."

"You're beginning to sound like Audra!" Nick said, helping himself to a glass and pouring himself a drink.

"And why shouldn't I," Rachel declared proudly, "when she sets me such a good example?"

Victoria smiled. "And what did you do for the rest of your day?"

"Oh, the usual," Rachel said. "I went riding, then I did some drawing."

"Jarrod?" Victoria turned to her eldest. "How has your day been?"

"Fine, thank you. Just fine! I've been sat in a chair behind a desk in my office, feeling the sun pour through my window, and longing to get outside."

"Poor Jarrod!" Rachel said. "I could never stay cooped up inside when the sun is shining!"

"Oh, I don't mind. You know I like my work!" Jarrod said, smiling.

"Nick, how have things been on the ranch today?"

"Fine, fine! Another couple of broncs have been broken, and Sugar's about ready to burst by the looks of her. She'll be birthing her foal any day now."

"Oh, Nick! Will it be a filly or a colt?" Rachel asked excitedly.

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see!" Nick answered, smiling at her eagerness.

"I'm so excited! I can hardly wait!"

"Heath?" Victoria said, turning with concerned eyes on her son's quietness. "Heath?"

Heath's head snapped up. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"I was about to ask you how your day's been. If it's been as gloomy as your face is now, I'm sure we won't care to hear in case it lowers our high spirits!"

Heath smiled at her, knowing that she was trying to cheer his downcast features. "I'm not gloomy," Heath said, with one of his half smiles. "I'm just thinking."

"Well, if thinking causes such a melancholy countenance, then _don't_ think!" Rachel said. "I often don't!"

"And it hasn't always done you any good!" Nick reminded her. "How about the time that you rode that bronc mare…"

"Oh, hush up!" Rachel said, tossing her head and flicking her hair towards Nick.

"What is bothering you, Heath?" Audra asked her big brother. "You don't seem yourself."

"I'm alright – honest. I'm fine," Heath answered.

There was an awkward silence as everyone examined the contradiction in Heath's words and voice. He said one thing, but his voice and face declared another. Something was weighing upon his mind, and Victoria was determined to find out!

"Well," she finally said, breaking the silence. "It's time for dinner now – shall we eat?" She stood up and allowed Jarrod to escort her into the dining room whilst Nick and Heath each escorted Audra and Rachel.

* * *

During the whole meal, Victoria studiously examined her son's pensive mood. He ate his food quietly and slowly, not saying a word during the whole meal, or, indeed, seeming responsive to any of the lively chatter around him.

Finally, when the meal was finished, and the family gathered once more in the living room, Victoria spoke up. "Heath, I don't know what's troubling you. But you are in the presence of family, and family are there to help bear the weight of burdens. It seems to me yours is too heavy for you to keep to yourself. What's on your mind? Maybe we can help."

Heath looked into her steady gaze, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat several times before he finally said, "I was reading the Stockton Eagle today. There's counterfeit money in circulation in one hundred dollar bills. Well, it was as I was reading that I bumped into Mr. Bridgeman."

"This happened in town then?"

"Yes, Mother, that's right. Well, anyway, in bumping into him, I guess I made him drop his briefcase. As he dropped it, it opened up. He quickly shut it again, but before he could, I saw what was inside."

Rachel was nearly falling off the edge of her seat in her anticipation. "What was inside?" she whispered in enthrallment.

"Row upon row of one hundred dollar bills!" Heath answered.

"And you can't help wondering if he is producing the counterfeit money?" Victoria asked calmly.

"Oh, I don't know. It sounds stupid now that it's said out loud – but the thought did occur to me."

"It certainly doesn't sound right!" Nick exclaimed. "Bridgeman, to some people, is the town. You know how much people look up to him. I don't know – it just doesn't seem right."

Audra shook her head slowly, her mouth parted in disbelief. "Are you sure, Heath?" she asked.

"No, I'm not," Heath answered. "But it's been on my mind all day. I can't seem to shake off the feeling that he could be!"

"Mr. Bridgeman a counterfeiter!" Rachel exclaimed. "How exciting!"

"It's not exciting Rachel, it's serious," Jarrod said. He turned to Heath. "It seems hard to believe, but I can look into it. Alright?"

"Thank you, Jarrod. I can't seem to believe it myself; but the way he acted … and why would he be carrying hundred dollar bills – hundreds of them – in his briefcase? He seemed to wonder if I suspected him – the way he looked at me, fumbled hurriedly for his case, and snatched the bill from me after he dropped it. There was something so distrustful about the way he acted – I just didn't like it. He seemed to be hiding something – he seemed to be hiding the contents of the case."

"But Mr. Bridgeman…" Victoria declared. "He's so popular – no one would believe you if you told anyone."

"That's why I was unsure about telling you. That's why I'm so grateful that you've listen to me like this without waving it off as if it couldn't even be considered."

"Counterfeiting is serious, though, so it's only right that I look into it," Jarrod said.

"Thanks again, Jarrod," Heath said smiling.

"Well," Victoria said. "I think that's enough about counterfeiters for one night. Rachel – I think you ought to go to bed."

"Yes Mother," Rachel said. "May I read a little?"

"Alright," Victoria consented, much to Rachel's delight. She quickly said goodnight to everyone and then hurried up to her room. After she had undressed and plaited her hair, she snuggled down under her covers with her book 'The Three Musketeers'.

Soon she was lost in a tale of mysterious plots – but when it was time to turn out her lamp, her mind turned back to what Heath had told the family. Mr. Bridgeman a counterfeit! How terribly thrilling! She was sure Heath was right. She had never liked that pompous man anyway, so here was a perfect excuse not to like him. She wriggled deeper into her bedcovers. Finally, she closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

As the days went by, not much was said about Mr. Bridgeman. The family decided not to tie him with the counterfeit money until anything could be proven.

It was three days later, when Nick and Heath were in town getting some supplies, that their attention was drawn to a ruckus at the other end of town.

"What's going on?" Heath asked.

"I don't know – but let's find out," Nick said, with a nod of determination.

The two brothers wandered up to the commotion, where a few spectators had already gathered.

"I didn't do it!" a man was shouting. "I never heard of such a dumb thing!"

"Why, that's Scott Parson – one of our hands! What do they want with him?" Heath said.

"That's what I was thinking!" Nick said. "Come on."

Nick and Heath pushed their way through the crowd.

"What's all this about, Fred?" Nick asked the Sheriff, hands in his pockets. "He's one of our men – we have the right to know."

"This man here," Sheriff Madden said, insinuating to a stranger clad in a suit, "works for the Secret Service. He's found Scott Parson to be guilty of introducing counterfeit money into the chain of normal money."

"I didn't Mr. Barkley! I swear I didn't!" young Scott Parson yelled in fright.

"Oh, and where's your proof that he's guilty, Mister?" Nick demanded.

"I found one of those bills on him today," came the calm reply.

"Scott, where did you get the money?"

"I won it!" the boy replied. "I won it in a card game!"

"He had the money on him before the game!" the Secret Service agent said.

"No I didn't! You have no proof of that!" the boy said. "I won it, I say!"

"See! Besides, if they're already in circulation, you could blame anyone that happens to own a bill by accident. Heath here has more definite proof who is printing it. Go on, Heath – tell them! You saw all that money – that was proof enough!"

"No – there isn't enough proof Nick. Don't make me say!"

"If there's a suspect, then I ought to know," the agent said.

"Please Mr. Barkley! Please tell them! Don't let them put me behind bars!"

Heath hesitated. What should he do? No one would believe him.

"Ask Mr. Bridgeman. Maybe he can tell you!"

"Are you trying to blame Mr. Bridgeman for a foul crime like this?" a woman's voice sounded from the crowd.

"Shame on you for saying a thing like that!"

"And just to defend a boy who works for you!"

"May Mr. Bridgeman forgive you for lying against his good name!"

"No Barkley I ever knew told lies before!"

Heath stared into the frenzied crowd. "Thanks Nick!" he muttered before pushing his way through. Nick followed.

In a few words, the family's decision to keep it quiet had been overruled. By a few words, the town of Stockton had teamed up against Heath!

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**I hope you enjoyed! Things are just going to go from bad to worse, I can promise you! Please review and thanks for sparing the time to read! **

**Rachel D :-)**


	2. Rachel Defends Heath

**Hi - here's chapter two. After a BUSY day at the stables, I have jumped onto my computer (not literally!) so as not to keep you waiting for too long. I hope you enjoy it!**

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**Chapter 2 – Rachel Defends Heath**

Nick slammed the front door after him as he entered the house with Heath.

"My, my," Victoria exclaimed as she descended the staircase. "I trust you had a profitable time in town!"

"Not at all," Nick yelled, storming into the living room and picking up a glass for himself. "Drink, Heath? Mother?" he offered quickly before angrily pouring himself a drink.

Victoria calmly took in the scene before her before picking up the skirt of her dress and descending the rest of the stairs. "Well, you two certainly seem to be in high spirits," she said, seating herself. "Pray, tell me, what is the cause for such cheerfulness?"

"Nick's big mouth, that's what!" Heath declared loudly.

"Oh, so now you're blaming me!" Nick shouted. "Well, someone had to say something – and as you saw it, I thought you were the one to say it!"

"Nicholas and Heath, for the love of Heaven, will you please stop shouting, and tell me what's going on?" Victoria exclaimed in exasperation.

"Nick made me tell Fred Madden and this Secret Service Agent in front of half the town that Mr. Bridgeman is tied with the counterfeit money!"

Victoria frowned in bewilderment. "But I didn't think we had any proof…"

"We don't!" Heath said, glaring at Nick.

"You had proof enough," Nick said, striding angrily over to the hearth where he leaned his elbow on the mantle before swiftly turning around to face his mother and brother. "I wasn't about to see that poor kid get blamed for something that there was more proof Bridgeman did!"

"There isn't proof, Nick. You know that! Now everyone thinks I'm blaming an innocent man. Not just that – he's a leading man in town. Everyone seems to like him. So you know where that puts me? Suddenly I become dirt because I accuse the good name of a popular old man!"

"Surely that's not true," Victoria exclaimed. "You have friends in town, Heath…"

"Yes! Friends! Some friends, Mother! The things they said, the way they looked. I've seen it all before. It's hate – that's what it is!"

"Hate? Oh, Heath, you're taking it too far," Victoria said, standing up and walking over to him. She slid her arm into his and peered into his eyes. "What did they say?"

"Oh, just 'may Mr. Bridgeman forgive you', and 'what lies', and 'I never knew a Barkley to lie before'. Just things like that!"

"But surely you told them where your beliefs were founded?"

"No, he just left – never tried to defend his name!" Nick said with evident reproach.

"They went crazy when I said Bridgeman's name. No one would have listened to anything more I had to say – and I wasn't prepared to listen to them, either."

"Heath, it'll blow over," Victoria said. "I know it will."

"I sure hope you're right," Heath said. "Personally, I'm not so sure."

He turned away from the living room, and went up the stairs, two at a time, leaving Victoria and Nick staring after him.

"You can see it in his eyes, Mother," Nick interrupted the silence. "He knows. They'll hold it against him – just like his birth!"

Victoria turned around swiftly to face her son. "No! No, surely not! Would they?"

Nick stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "Well, the way they sounded today, I wouldn't put it past them."

He patted her shoulder, and then walked out of the house, leaving Victoria standing in the middle of the room, in a great turmoil of mind.

* * *

"Well, it's all over town," Jarrod announced that night at the meal table.

"What are they saying, Jarrod?" Heath asked.

Jarrod hesitated.

"Jarrod, what are they saying?" Heath urged.

"Oh, just that you are accusing your betters for things they haven't done – and that they might have known as much because…"

"Because of my birth," Heath finished. "I knew they'd round it down to that. Hate always does that. Hate is the basest thing that can destroy a man! It tears him down to his roots."

"I can't see why people would become so hateful," Audra said. "Heath only said a name."

"_The_ name! That's what it is to the people of Stockton," Heath declared. "It's not just any name. Bridgeman has got for himself a name that everyone would get down on their knees and worship if he asked them to."

"Why?" Rachel asked. "What's he done that's so great?"

"He's done a lot of things for the community, Rachel," Jarrod answered. "He's helped build up the town for as long as I can remember."

"For as long as _you_ can remember? He must be very old then," Rachel said teasingly.

Jarrod ignored her comment. "Some people refer to him as the 'Grandpappy of Stockton'. Why? Because he's nurtured the town through its many years, funding it with all his money!"

"If he's got so much money – why would he print more?" Rachel asked. "Or has it always been false? Is Stockton built on counterfeit money?" She sounded almost excited at the prospect which earned her a pointed frown from Jarrod.

"I really don't think that's the case, Honey, so there's no point in you getting yourself excited," Jarrod said.

"I still can't see why people would idolize him. Isn't that what it is? Well, then they're the ones in the wrong – not Heath. The Bible says not to make idols!"

"Yes, we realize that, Honey," Jarrod said. "But sadly not everyone follows the right principles. They follow their own."

"Heath," Rachel said. "I'm sorry that they're so mean. You're not upset, are you?" She couldn't bear for her big brother to be hurt. She did love him so!

Heath gave her a half smile. "No. I'm not upset. Over the years I've had all kinds of friends – but I've known a lot of people who have shunned me, too. Shunned me because of what I am – because of my birth."

"But why do people have to be so prejudiced? That doesn't change who you are, or the kind heart that you have! Why are people so cruel?"

"It's a cruel world that we live in, Honey," Jarrod said. "It has been ever since the Fall of Man, and it will be to the end. You just have to face it."

"Well, I don't see that we do!" Rachel said. "I think everyone ought to strive to make it different!"

Jarrod smiled at her. "Yes my little peacemaker. Maybe we should. But who will? Who will stand up for change and make the first move?"

No one answered, but Rachel decided right then and there in her heart that she would! Tomorrow she would ride into town and see for herself what the people of Stockton had to say against her brother. Tomorrow, she'd defend him, because the Barkley's always stood up for each other. She didn't know how – but she was determined. And when Rachel Barkley was determined – nothing would stand in her way!

* * *

After breakfast and chores the next morning, Rachel tacked Blazing Star up and mounted up for a ride. No one asked her where she was going, as she often went for rides by herself. She usually went to the Mokelumne River, or sometimes as far as Spring Meadow – but not today. Today she was riding into Stockton!

Once she arrived in town, she dismounted and tied her horse up outside the General Store. She wasn't exactly sure where to begin, or how to begin. She wasn't even sure what she was doing in town. But she was here now – and she had to begin somewhere. Where better, then, than the store? There would be a lot of people there. If she was going to defend her brother, then it would have to be in front of a lot of people. Thus, she decided, this was the perfect place to begin!

Before she could make her way to the store, however, she heard a girl's voice behind her.

"Rachel Barkley! Fancy seeing _you_ in town!"

Rachel turned around to see a girl a little younger than her, with brown hair neatly tied into two bunches with ribbons.

"And why wouldn't I be in town, Bertha Shaw?" Rachel asked a little smugly, jutting out her chin stubbornly, and bearing her nose proudly in the air.

"Because of all the talk about that embarrassment you call your brother!" Bertha declared boldly.

"What do you mean by that?" Rachel asked dangerously.

"Why, everyone's talking about it! I heard my parents last night. They said Heath is a low-down liar."

"Well then, your parents are low-down liars to talk like that!" Rachel said, bristling at once.

Bertha ignored her. "My parents said that Heath telling such lies was to be expected – his being a dirty whelp and all!"

"You keep talking like that, and I'll put my fist in your face!" Rachel said, repeating the words that she had heard Nick say to someone before.

"I can say what I like," Bertha said. "You wouldn't hit me anyway!"

"Don't tempt me, Bertha!" Rachel said darkly.

Bertha hesitated just long enough to see Sheriff Madden approaching. A gleam shone in her eye as an idea came to her – so she continued with her malicious talk. "I can't even see why you'd want to defend that Heath, anyway. It's not as if he's your brother, now, is he?"

"Shut up!" Rachel hissed quietly.

"The way I see it, from what my Ma and Pa say, there's no way Heath is your brother; why, he isn't even a Barkley. He's nothing more than a filthy…"

Rachel didn't let Bertha finish. She flung herself at the girl before she could manage to complete the dirty name that she was calling Heath. She knocked Bertha right over so that she fell onto her back, and then threw herself onto the girl, hitting and punching and kicking her with all her might.

Bertha let out pitiful screams, and fought back even more pitifully! But there was no fighting Rachel off – not now that she was angry. Once Rachel was angry, then she was mad!

It didn't take long for Fred Madden to rush across the street to break up the fight – but despite that, Rachel had already inflicted a great many blows! Sheriff Madden grasped Rachel, and hauled her up, holding her back from the now sobbing Bertha.

"She…she…a-a-tack-tacked…m-me!" Bertha sobbed, rubbing her eyes with her fists.

"Alright, young lady," Fred Madden said, giving Rachel a little shake with the one hand that he held her arm with. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Nothing for myself, Sheriff Madden! But I've got plenty to say for Bertha Shaw! She's a lying pig!"

Bertha gasped.

"She's a disgusting…"

"Make her stop!" Bertha wailed. "She's so mean!"

"Rachel Barkley, you will stop calling Bertha names right now, and you will explain your conduct in fighting her!" Fred Madden commanded.

"I was just talking to her, and she flew at me for no reason at all!" Bertha lied.

"You liar!" Rachel exclaimed, tearing her arm out of the sheriff's firm grasp, and punching Bertha's face. Fred Madden caught hold of Rachel again, but not before she satisfactorily witnessed the blood ooze from Bertha's nose.

"Rachel Barkley, we'll see what your family has to say about this. Is Jarrod in town?"

Rachel began to panic. He was showing her up in front of the whole of the town. At least, quite a few people had stopped to watch the sheriff tear Rachel off Bertha, and keep the now struggling girl from dashing at the other girl again.

"Please let me go, Sheriff Madden. Please let me go," Rachel asked pleadingly as she tried to twist her arm out of his grasp. He was holding her too tightly for her to be able to pull herself free this time. In fact, he was holding her so tightly, it was hurting!

"Is Jarrod in town?" Fred Madden demanded.

Rachel bit her bottom lip, and slowly nodded her head.

"Alright then, let's go and pay him a visit. Then you can tell him exactly how you've behaved!"

Sheriff Madden practically dragged Rachel off towards Jarrod's office, but not before Rachel saw a triumphant smug gleam in Bertha's eyes, and opposed that by poking out her tongue!

Rachel felt like a criminal being dragged to jail. It was humiliating! She didn't know what was worse – being shown up in front of the people of Stockton, or being taken to her eldest brother and having to tell him what she had done wrong! She felt herself being dragged to her doom, with a heart full of pride, and a belly full of fear!

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**What will Pappy say? Well, I'll update as soon as I can so that you can find out! I hope the fight was realistic enough. I could just see Rachel B trying to defend Heath, and thought this was the perfect place to put that into the story. :-) Please review! I LOVE to hear from you! Rachel D**


	3. Telling Pappy

**Hi! Sorry for not updating yesterday! I hope you enjoy this chapter. (I will do my best to update every day from now on!)**

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**Chapter 3 – Telling Pappy**

Fred Madden marched Rachel straight into Jarrod's office without knocking to see if he was busy first. It so happened he didn't have a meeting at that time, so Jarrod was simply sat quietly at his desk, going through some papers. When he looked up and beheld Sheriff Madden holding tightly onto Rachel's arm, with the latter holding an expression exactly like the one she wore whenever she nervously waited to see how angry Pappy was with her, a deep frown creased his brow, making Rachel shrink back even more nervously.

"Hello, Fred," Jarrod said, standing up. "I do hope my little sister hasn't been causing any trouble." He directed this statement more at Rachel, which made her duck timidly.

"Actually, yes, she has Jarrod," Fred said.

Jarrod raised his eyebrows at Rachel. "Oh? I'm sorry to hear that. What has she been up to?"

Sheriff Madden pushed Rachel forward toward her brother, finally releasing his hold on her arm. "I think she'd better answer that question."

Jarrod looked steadily at Rachel, holding her eyes with his intense gaze. "Well, young lady? What have you been up to?"

Rachel tore her eyes from Jarrod's steady look. Her heart grew cold with fear. He sounded dangerously angry. He hadn't sounded like that for a long, long time. He was using his calm, quiet, but commanding voice. He was in his 'Pappy' mood. That wasn't a good start!

"Well?" Jarrod asked again.

"Rachel, it's up to you," Fred said. "You can either tell it how it was, or I can tell it how I saw it!"

Jarrod watched his sister's reactions to the Sheriff's words. The way the Sheriff was phrasing things, it sounded like Rachel had really got herself into a lot of trouble. It sounded really, really bad! The last time Rachel had got in trouble with the Sheriff had been when she and Eugene had been messing with guns outside the Sheriff's office. They had been playing lynch mobs and runaway prisoners, and had used real guns and bullets to make their game more real. That had been five years ago when Rachel was nine and Gene was twelve – and Jarrod had made sure that neither of them had touched guns again for a long time after that! What could Rachel have done now to be in trouble with the Sheriff? By the looks of her face, even though she did have a proud look about her for some reason, she knew that she had done something wrong. The guilt showed plainly!

"Rachel – you heard the Sheriff. Are you going to tell me, or is Fred going to have to do the talking?"

Rachel tried to speak, but the unsympathetic look Jarrod gave her destroyed what confidence she had had left. Unable to think where she should begin, she just stood there and stared at Jarrod with a cowering look, not knowing what to do or say.

"Alright, Fred, it looks like my little sister's too stubborn to talk," Jarrod said, giving her an admonitory glance.

"Well, Jarrod, it's like this," Sheriff Madden began. "I was just walking along the street when I heard a bit of a kafuffle going on. I hurried over to find your sister on top of Bertha Shaw, hitting her and punching her without mercy. Well, I hauled her off Bertha, but Rachel pulled herself out of my hold and punched Bertha again before I could grab her and bring her to you. She refused to explain her behaviour to me."

Jarrod looked at Rachel in complete and utter surprise. But surprise soon gave way to disappointment. Jarrod frowned deeply at Rachel. "Well, what have you got to say for yourself?" he asked, his voice revealing restrained anger.

Rachel finally found her voice. "Nothing, Sir."

Jarrod paused. She had called him 'Sir'. She generally only called him that if she knew she was in deep trouble.

"Well, Jarrod, I guess I'll leave you to sort this out," Fred said. "I've got more things to do than to wait for a stubborn girl to give answers in her own time."

"Yes, of course. Well, Fred, thank you for bringing her to me. I am truly sorry for what has happened – and I can assure you," he added, looking straight at Rachel, "it won't happen again!"

"Thank you, Jarrod. I'll see myself out," Fred said, quickly exiting the room.

Rachel braced herself for Jarrod's next words, which were ones of disappointment and heated displeasure.

"You got into a fight? A fight! Rachel Louise Barkley – I am so disappointed in you! That goes against everything you have been taught in being brought up as a respectable young lady! Why? Tell me _why_ you got into a fight!"

Rachel looked away and mumbled very quietly, "I don't want to talk about it."

Jarrod sighed. "Well, you're going to talk about it. You have no choice about that. But I'll tell you what. You can have the whole ride from here to the ranch to think of a good explanation of your conduct, little sister. Come on, let's go home."

Jarrod took hold of her arm, not unlike how Sheriff Madden had been holding onto her, and led her out of his office. "Where's your horse?" he asked her.

"Outside the General Store," came her quiet reply.

"Well, go and get it and meet me outside the livery stables," he said, letting go of her arm. "Don't you even think of running or riding off by yourself," he quickly added.

"Yes, Jarrod," Rachel said. She quickly walked off to get Blazing Star from where she had left him, feeling all eyes upon her as she walked down the middle of town. Then she quickly mounted up and rode up to the livery stable where Jarrod was waiting for her, already up in Jingo's saddle.

"Ready?" he asked.

Rachel nodded her head, so they squeezed their horses and started off on the longest journey home ever.

* * *

Once they reached the house, Jarrod dismounted, and holding onto Blazing Star for Rachel as she alighted, said, "Go up to your room. I'll be with you directly."

Rachel nodded her head and entered the house.

"Well, where have you been?" Audra asked.

Rachel turned to her sister. "I can't talk. Jarrod said I had to go to my room," she quickly explained before tearfully rushing up the stairs. Audra put down the book that she had been reading and stared in bewilderment after Rachel's fleeing form. As soon as Jarrod entered the house, she stood up and walked over to him.

"Jarrod," she said. "What's wrong with Rachel?"

"I don't know!" Jarrod said almost impatiently, stepping over to the table to pour himself a scotch. "I intend to find out though."

"And is this supposed to help?" Audra asked, taking the glass out of his hand before setting it down on the table. She threaded her arm through his and round his back in a gentle embrace. "Goodness," Audra said light-heartedly. "She must have done something terrible if you need to take a drink to calm yourself before talking to her!"

"She has," Jarrod said. "She got into a fight in town."

"A fight!" Audra exclaimed in surprise, stepping back. "You mean she was hitting someone? Not innocent little sis?"

"A full-fledged fight, punches and all," Jarrod said. "Little sister was on top of Bertha Shaw and, according to Fred Madden, was beating her up without mercy. How's that for an innocent sister?"

"I can't believe it!" Audra exclaimed. "I just can't believe it!"

"Well, believe it or not, it happened – and I'm going up there right now to hear her explanation, which, so far, she has refused to give!" Jarrod made his way to the bottom of the stairs.

"Jarrod," Audra said, quickly hurrying up to him and putting a calming hand on his arm. "Don't be too hard on her, will you? I'm sure there's a perfect explanation to all of this. Don't be mad before you've heard her out."

"Audra," Jarrod said. "Don't you think Pappy's had enough experience? I think I know how to handle her – no matter how much of a wild cat she is!"

Audra smiled. "Yes, Pappy; of course!" Jarrod kissed her on the forehead, and then made his way up the stairs.

* * *

Rachel was sat on her bed, looking out of her bedroom window. She didn't even turn to look when Jarrod entered the room.

He sat down at the further end of her bed and waited quietly for her to turn around and explain everything to him. As for Rachel, she was waiting for Jarrod to speak first. She knew she had made Jarrod disappointed in her. She knew that the whole family would be disappointed in her actions. But she also told herself that she had done the right thing – and that made her pride spill over and stopped her from seeing the wrong in starting the fight.

"Rachel, I'm waiting," Jarrod finally said.

Rachel slowly turned around. Jarrod could see that her eyelashes were damp, so she had obviously been crying before he had come upstairs.

"Honey, you could make this a whole lot easier if you'd just tell me all about it," Jarrod said.

"Alright, Jarrod," Rachel said. "I'll tell you. I didn't want to tell you in front of Sheriff Madden, because it's personal, and I didn't want him to hear. I started the fight, and I'm glad that I did. Nothing you or anyone else says will change that! Bertha's a mean, priggish skunk – but she doesn't behave well, even though she pretends to. The things she said – they hurt my heart. I wanted to teach her a lesson – and I did!"

"What did she say?" Jarrod asked quietly.

"She was calling Heath names," Rachel said. "Horrible, horrible names! She said he was a liar and a dirty whelp. She said he wasn't my brother. She said he wasn't a Barkley. She called him a filthy…"

"Alright, I get the picture," Jarrod said. "So you flew at her and punched her?"

"Again and again!" Rachel said with a triumphant gleam in her eye. "I made that horrid girl see that she don't ever call my brother names again! I gave her at least one black eye, and I ripped her dress, and I made her nose bleed. I did as good a job as any of my brothers have ever done in a fight!"

"That's nothing to be proud of," Jarrod said sternly.

"Jarrod," Rachel said. "Aren't my brothers there for examples to me?"

"Yes, I suppose we are. Why?"

"Well, you've all got in fights at some point or other! I guess it's alright for me to get in fights, too, then!"

"No, it isn't! Girls do not fight. There's the difference!"

"Why?" Rachel asked.

"Because it isn't feminine!" Jarrod answered firmly. "And because," he added, seeing that she was about to question him further, "Pappy said so!"

Rachel clapped her mouth shut. That closed that subject to her questions!

"She really offended you, didn't she?" Jarrod said, seeing the sadness in Rachel's eyes.

"I love Heath. I can't bear for anyone to speak against him! Why do they have to be so mean, Jarrod? Why do they have to trace one thing he says back to his birth?! Not as if they should hold that against him, either!" Rachel declared tearfully.

Jarrod opened his arms out to her, and she snuggled next to him.

"I don't know why people are so mean, and it was lovely of you to defend Heath, but it was also wrong of you to fight. I'm proud that you defended your brother – just not proud of the way you went about it."

"Jarrod," Rachel said nervously. "Are you mad?"

Jarrod smiled at her and squeezed her closer to him. "No – not mad," he said almost sadly. "Just disappointed!" He paused whilst she took that in and then asked her, "Are you sorry for what you've done?"

"No, not at all," came Rachel's bold reply, which made Jarrod shake his head at her mulish pride. "I'd do it again any day!"

"You do realize I ought to tan your backside for starting a fight, don't you?" Jarrod said severely. He softened his tone as he felt her tense up. "Well, I'm not going to do that. Your motives were right, even if your actions weren't – and on that one point I will go easy on you. I'm not totally letting you get away with it, though. We can ride into town after lunch and you can apologize to Bertha and Mr. and Mrs. Shaw, and Sheriff Madden then. Is that understood? I don't think that will do your pride any harm – and it will be humiliating enough to make sure that you don't do it again. But if you do get in a fight again, young lady, then you will not get away with it – is that understood?"

"Yes, Jarrod," Rachel said quietly. "I guess."

"Alright! Now, it's probably lunchtime – wash your face, and then we can go downstairs together."

Rachel ran to obey, and then Jarrod opened the door to Rachel's bedroom. "Ladies first," he said, smiling at her.

"Thank you, Jarrod. Jarrod," she began thoughtfully. "I always thought you told me not to lie!"

"I have always told you not to lie," Jarrod said, wondering what she was getting at as he followed her out into the landing. "I hope you never will."

"In which case," Rachel said exultantly as she skipped towards the stairs, "I can't apologize to Bertha. To say that I'm sorry, my dear big brother, would be a lie!"

Jarrod shook his head at her, trying to keep back his smile of amusement. Rachel just laughed, and ran down the staircase to join the rest of the family for lunch.

* * *

**Well, I hope you enjoyed. I will try to post the next chapter tomorrow before I go to rehearsals! Please, please review! I love to hear from you!**


	4. Apologies

**Well, here's the next chapter. Thankfully I have found a little bit of time to sit down and post this chapter! I hope you enjoy. **

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Apologies**

"She what?!" Nick exclaimed.

"I made her nose bleed, too!" Rachel declared proudly.

"You keep talking proudly like that, and I might regret not teaching you a lesson upstairs," Jarrod warned.

Rachel ignored Jarrod and leaned across the table towards Nick. "You should have seen me, Nick!" she said. "I did as good a job as you've ever done!"

"But Sweetie, it's not lady-like to fight!" Audra protested, putting a gentle hand on Rachel's arm.

"Rachel," Victoria said reproachfully. "How could you? Whatever made you fight?"

Rachel glanced across the table at Heath. "Never mind! It doesn't matter."

"Well, that's the first time I've heard that the reason for getting into a fight didn't matter," Victoria said. "Why did you fight, Rachel? I can hardly believe that you did such a thing! You must have had a pretty good reason to."

"The reason doesn't matter. All that does matter is that I taught Bertha a good lesson for what she said!"

"For what she said?" Heath repeated. "Oh, no – this isn't anything to do with me, is it?"

"It might be," Rachel said. "So what?"

"Well, I don't really think my little sister should be getting into fights because of me. It doesn't seem right somehow," Heath said, not knowing whether to grin or frown at her spunk.

"Well, of course it was right. I couldn't hear those things that she was saying and just let her get away with it, now, could I?"

"No," Heath said. "I don't suppose you could. You're too loyal for that. A little bit like a dog – isn't she Nick? She's man's best friend – if you get on the right side of her!"

"A dog, Heath Barkley? Well I like that! Thank you very much!" Rachel exclaimed sarcastically.

Heath grinned before continuing seriously, "Little sister, I appreciate you standing up for me – but I don't want you getting into any more fights. Is that understood?"

"But Heath…"

"Rachel, you most certainly won't get into another fight. It just isn't right!" Victoria said. "I am shocked and disappointed in you for fighting Bertha. Please make sure you don't disappoint me like that again."

Rachel lowered her head. She hated to disappoint her family. "I'm sorry, Mother. Not for fighting Bertha – I am glad about that. But I'm sorry that you're ashamed of me."

"Well you shouldn't be glad that you got into a fight," Nick said. "Can't you see that it's wrong?"

"Where's the wrong in defending Heath?"

"That's not wrong, Honey," Jarrod said. "It's the fighting that's wrong. You should have used words to defend Heath – not punches!"

"I'm not a smooth-talking lawyer, Jarrod. I couldn't think what to say on the spot. Afterwards, right now, I can think of an awful lot of things I'd like to say to that girl! But it's too late now!"

"Well, Honey – you won't be fighting again – so you'll just have to learn how to use words. Or try doing a good deed for that person to heap coals of fire on her head. Make her feel guilty!"

"Coals of fire? Real ones?" Rachel asked mischievously.

"You know exactly what I mean, Rachel!" Jarrod said with a little frown.

"But that would be like rewarding her for the bad things she said. I could never do that!"

"Well, at least try something else next time – because I forbid you to ever start a fight again."

Rachel looked down at her plate sadly. A thought crossed her mind which she quickly voiced for the rest of the family to hear, "I wonder what Gene will say when I write and tell him that I got into a fight!"

"Well, he'd better not encourage you," Nick said.

Rachel smiled. "Gene would say anything to please me. I think I'll go write him a letter now!"

"Well that will have to wait till later, little sister," Jarrod said, rising from his seat. "I do believe we've got an appointment in town."

"Oh, Jarrod! Do I really have to say sorry? I'm really not – so how can I?"

Jarrod shook his head. "We'll ride into Stockton together in the buggy. That way we can have a nice long talk on the way there. I think by the time we've finished, you should realize that you were in the wrong. That should be enough to make you sorry."

Rachel sighed. This was turning out to be a very bad day!

* * *

Once the buggy started forward, Jarrod said, "Alright, Honey. Let's talk."

"I don't think fighting was wrong," Rachel began. "One, my brothers fight. Two, Bertha's mean and deserved it. Three…I'll think of a third one in a minute."

"Well, to answer your first point. There is a difference between men fighting and girls fighting. There's a distinction."

"And where does that line fall?" Rachel asked.

"Well, just look at it like this, Sweetie," Jarrod said. "I said you're not to fight, Mother said so, too, and so did Nick, Heath and Audra. I'm pretty sure Eugene would have said so, too, if he was here. There – so we've all told you not to get into any fights. Thus, if you did, you would just be breaking the rules that we've made for you. I know that once we've set a rule you never break it – so just make sure that you don't! Accept that you're not allowed to fight, young lady. Accept that you were in the wrong."

"What about my second point?" Rachel asked quietly as she still thought about what Jarrod had just said.

"That Bertha deserved it?" Jarrod asked. "Well, I'm not denying that she probably did – but it wasn't your place to administer what she deserved. Next time – let's hope there isn't a next time, but if there is – you could… well, you say some things you could have done instead of fighting."

"I could have said that she was being rude, and turned away and left," Rachel suggested, wrinkling up her nose at the idea. "Or I could have gone to her parents and told on her – but then again, she said that it was all what they had said, too. They wouldn't have punished her, more's the pity! I'm not sure what else I could have done."

There was a pause before Jarrod spoke. "Another thing, Rachel; I'm sure there's a Scripture somewhere that says women should have a meek and quiet spirit!"

Rachel groaned, "I knew you'd bring that one up!"

Jarrod smiled, "So, are you sorry yet?"

Rachel pursed her lips and slowly shook her head. "I just feel so mad at her – I can't seem to make myself sorry."

"Do you think Father would have been pleased with you?" Jarrod asked suddenly.

Rachel looked across at Jarrod in surprise, and then down at her lap. "I guess not. I guess he would have been even more scary than you!"

Jarrod laughed, "I was scary?"

"You always are when I'm in trouble," Rachel admitted with a smile. "Jarrod," she added. "Why did you have to mention Daddy?"

"Well, I thought maybe it might make you sorry – or maybe if I mentioned Jesus. Do you think He would have been pleased to see you fight?"

"He whipped the moneychangers out of the temple," Rachel insisted. "He was defending…"

"Rachel," Jarrod warned. "For the last time, it wasn't your place, and you are not allowed to fight!"

"I guess you're right Jarrod," Rachel said, squirming in her seat a little. "I sure wouldn't have hit Bertha if I had seen Jesus there. And I wouldn't have if Father had been there, either – but only because he wouldn't have spared my hide like you did!"

Jarrod smiled, and gathering the reins into one hand, put an arm around his sister. "So you're sorry?"

"Yes, Jarrod. I'm sorry for doing wrong, and for hurting God and my family. I'm glad Bertha will remember how wrong she was every time she looks in the mirror for a while – but I'm sorry that I was bad."

"Good – I think that'll do. Now – do you know what to say when you apologize?"

"Yes, I guess," Rachel said. "Jarrod," she continued. "Do I really have to apologize in person? Maybe I could write a letter or something? It's just so embarrassing!"

"It's meant to be," Jarrod said. "You can't totally get away for fighting, you know!"

Rachel pulled a face, "I guess you're right!"

Jarrod smiled, "It won't be so bad, Honey. I'll be right there next to you."

Rachel smiled wryly. "Do you think Mr. and Mrs. Shaw will be mad?"

"Probably," Jarrod confirmed her fears. "So what? They can't do anything to you!"

"Do you think Mr. Shaw will ask you to … to … you know what?"

"Perhaps," Jarrod said. "But what he says and what I do are two completely different things. I have said that this one time, as your motives but not your actions were right, I would let it go. Nothing Mr. Shaw has to say can change that."

"Are you sure about that Jarrod?" Rachel asked nervously.

"Who's Pappy?" Jarrod asked. "Is Mr. Shaw?"

Rachel smiled, "No! You are!"

"That's right!" he chucked her nose. "And don't you forget it."

Rachel nestled closer to her big brother, her heart beginning to thump loudly in her chest as she recognized the familiar landmarks that revealed that they had almost arrived. By the time Jarrod had stopped the buggy, she felt cold and clammy with dread. She just wanted it to be over!

"Alright?" Jarrod asked her as he helped her down from the buggy.

"Nope," Rachel said. "I've got a belly full of fear, and I just want to run – but a Barkley never runs. I keep telling myself a Barkley is never afraid – but I think I know that I'm lying to myself."

Jarrod laughed. "Come on," he said, leading her to the front door of the Shaw's home. "It'll be over before you know it!"

The Shaw family lived in the surrounding vicinity of Stockton. Rachel knocked nervously on their door and waited. It wasn't long till Mrs. Shaw opened the door.

"Why, good afternoon," Jarrod said, tipping his hat. "I've brought my sister around to apologize for what happened in town this morning!"

"Well, so she should!" Mrs. Shaw declared. "My poor Bertha is so beat up she can hardly look out of her eyes! I had to call Doctor Merar over because she just won't stop crying. She hurts all over – and she thought her nose was broke!"

"I'm very sorry Mrs. Shaw," Rachel said. "It was very wrong of me to fight Bertha – no matter what she said," Jarrod nudged Rachel so she quickly hurried on, "and I just want to ask your forgiveness."

"Well, I'm a good Christian," Mrs. Shaw said almost regretfully, "so I suppose so child. But you ever hurt my precious child again…"

She left the threat to Rachel's imagination.

"Is Bertha there, Mrs. Shaw," Rachel went on. "I'd like to apologize to her."

"She won't want to see you," Mrs. Shaw said confidently.

"Who's there Lucinda?" came a man's voice. Another moment and Mr. Shaw was standing next to his wife.

"Jarrod Barkley, you get your sister away from this place!" Mr. Shaw declared. "Do you realize what she did to our daughter?"

"That's why we're here," Jarrod said. "She's come to apologize."

"Yes, Mr. Shaw, I'm very sorry…"

"I hope your brother dealt with you as you deserve!" Mr. Shaw said.

Rachel winced. "I'm very sorry," she began again.

"Well, Jarrod? I won't hear of her getting away with what she did to my Bertha!"

"I'm afraid I didn't find it necessary, James," Jarrod said. "After all, the fault wasn't entirely on Rachel's part."

"What are you trying to say? What've you got against my poor innocent baby?" Mrs. Shaw asked insistently.

"Nothing," Jarrod said. "Nothing at all! It's just…"

"May I apologize to Bertha now?" Rachel asked. "Is she inside?"

"She's in her room," Mrs. Shaw said, quickly informing Rachel where in the house that room was situated. Rachel quickly followed the lady's directions.

Inside the room, still crying on her bed, was a bruised and battered Bertha. Rachel quickly bit back her smile of satisfaction, reminding herself that she had been wrong to fight. "Bertha," she said, making the girl turn over with her back to Rachel. "Bertha – I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to hit you. It was wrong of you to say the things you said – but I shouldn't have hit you. I'm sorry for fighting you. I'm very sorry."

"Did you get in trouble?" Bertha murmured into her pillow.

Rachel bristled, but quickly calmed down. "Not so very much. Jarrod just warned me not to fight again – and I won't. I promise – it was wrong of me. And I'm sorry."

Bertha suddenly sat upright, a gleam of fire in her eyes. "You're not forgiven, Rachel Barkley. You were very mean to me – and I'll never forgive you! As far as I can see – you're no better than that low-lying, dirty Heath!"

Rachel glared at Bertha. "Bertha Shaw – if it wasn't that I'd promised not to fight again, I'd punch your face for saying that! If ever you could compare me to my brother, then I'd take it as a compliment, not the insult that you meant it to be! My brother, Heath, is much finer than you'll ever be!"

"Is that so?" Bertha rejoined. "Well! Maybe Heath isn't quite as much to blame as that father of yours! The people of town might have raised a statue of him – but that doesn't make him as grand as they all make out! He's the one who left your mother just to be with another woman!"

"You say anything against my father and I won't pay any heed to my promise not to fight!" Rachel growled. Feeling her rage beginning to take over her, Rachel tried to keep it in check, and quickly said, "Jarrod brought me here so that I could say sorry Bertha. Well I am – I'm sorry _for_ you! I'm sorry that you have nothing better to do than to make up lies about good people – people who are better than you'll ever be! Good bye!"

With that Rachel stalked out of the room – her anger boiling inside of her!

* * *

Jarrod and Rachel climbed into the buggy again.

"What did Mr. Shaw say?" Rachel asked.

"He said that only the Barkley's could fight someone and get away with it!" Jarrod said grimly.

"Well, that's not true!" Rachel said hotly. "And the way Mrs. Shaw said that she was a 'good Christian'. Huh! She really sounds like one, the things she says about Heath! And when she called Bertha 'innocent'! Phooey!"

"How did Bertha accept your apology?"

"She didn't – the mean…"

"Rachel!" Jarrod scolded before she could finish the name she was calling the girl.

"Do you know what that girl said? It wasn't enough to speak against Heath! She had to go the extra mile and say cruel things about Father! You'd better be proud I didn't punch her again Jarrod! The things she said – she made me so mad! I deserve a medal for not hitting her!"

Jarrod smiled at Rachel's ferocious tones. "I am proud of you," he said. He looked at her angry face, and put an arm around her shoulder. "Come on, Rachel – three down, one to go. Let's go see the Sheriff!"

Sheriff Madden accepted Rachel's apology instantly, much to her relief. Soon, before she knew it, they were riding back to the ranch.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it, Honey?" Jarrod asked.

"I guess not, Pappy," Rachel said. She smiled, glad that her dreaded apologies in town were now over.

The ride home was quiet. It wasn't long until they finally pulled up outside the ranch. Rachel bounded out of the buggy.

"What are you up to now, little sister?" Jarrod asked Rachel.

"I'm going to write to Gene. I haven't written him for ages."

Jarrod smiled. "Alright, and give him my love."

"I will," Rachel said, hurrying into the house and up the stairs into her room. She sat down at the little desk in her bedroom, and brandishing her pen before setting it to paper, wrote the following:

_To my dear brother, Eugene,_

_I am missing you more than I can say. I haven't written for some time because I've been so busy. Yes, busy riding Blazing Star mostly – but I've had some chores and errands, too._

_Today has been quite a day! But before I begin, I'd better tell you all about Mr. Bridgeman – where it all started._

_Heath saw Mr. Bridgeman carrying a whole briefcase full of hundred dollar bills a few days ago. It turns out there are counterfeit hundred dollars bills in circulation – and my money's on Mr. Bridgeman as the counterfeiter. Word got out into town, and everyone was against Heath for saying that Mr. Bridgeman is to blame. Now that leads to today!_

_Well, you know that horrid pig Bertha Shaw? Well, she was talking to me in town today, and she was calling Heath some horrid names. And I mean horrid! I don't even want to think about the mean things she was saying. I warned her, again and again – but she didn't pay me any heed! Too bad for her, because I knocked her right over and hit her! Not just once, either! I fought her, Gene! What do you think of that? _

_Sheriff Madden dragged me off her, but I did hit her again, and made her nose bleed! He marched me straight to Jarrod's office – and I was plumb scared. I mean really scared. About as scared as both of us put together the time of the raccoon incident all those years ago – you remember that one? Of course you do! How could you forget?!_

_Well, Jarrod was extremely disappointed in me – but not nearly as mad as I thought he would be. In fact, he didn't raise his voice too much. He didn't even whup me! But he's warned me not to fight again – under penalty of you know what!_

_Well, my dear Gene, what do you think? Not quite so much of a mouse now, am I?"_

_I can hardly wait to see you again, my dear brother. Come home to us very soon!_

_I love you with all of my heart. Keep up with the studies! The family all send their love!_

_I wish I could be there to deliver the kisses that I send with this letter. _

_Much love, your devoted and loving little Mouse,_

_Rachel x_

Rachel smiled with satisfaction as she sealed the envelope. She hoped Gene would reply soon. She hadn't heard from him for such a long time – she was missing him so much! She wrote his name and the address in her best penmanship on the envelope, and then hurried downstairs to see to Blazing Star before dinner.

* * *

**Well, folks, I hope you enjoyed that chapter. In the next chapter, things really start to happen - or head in that direction, anyway! Please let me know your thoughts. Many thanks to those who have reviewed so far, and also to those who have favourited my story! **


	5. Wrapped Around Her Finger

**I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Please review and let me know!**

* * *

Chapter 5 – Wrapped Around Her Finger

Jarrod announced to the family that night that he was taking Scott Parson's case.

"I told him that he needed a lawyer, and that I was the man for him – I'm the only one who believes he didn't print that money."

"But how could they arrest him?" Rachel asked. "Surely they don't have any proof?"

"The man who works for the Secret Service said he'd been watching him, and had enough proof for the arrest. He also said he had plenty of evidence to show at the trial. I think he's bluffing – we'll have to see."

"Well, if he has got any evidence, it must all be false! I bet Mr. Bridgeman's left false evidence all over the place to get the agent off his track. It's all part of his plan – you'll see."

"Well, we still don't know who did it, Honey, so don't plaster Bridgeman's name on the crime yet. It'll be my job to try and find out who's really doing it – if I want to win that case."

"What about paying for you to defend him?" Victoria asked. "Can he pay you?"

"I've arranged everything with him, Mother," Jarrod said. "After all, not all my clients can pay with money. I told him that as soon as he's back on the ranch, he can see Nick or Heath for some extra jobs. He can work for it – that's fine with me."

Victoria smiled at her son, and a glimmer of pride shone in her eyes.

Rachel looked up from her eating. "Jarrod," she began. "When you go into town tomorrow, will you please post my letter to Eugene?"

"Of course, Honey," Jarrod said. "I'll do it before anything else."

Rachel smiled happily. "Thank you."

"You wrote to Gene today?" Audra asked.

"Uh huh! I know he's so busy with his studies and all – but I hope he replies quickly. I haven't received a letter from him for ages!"

"Ages?!" Nick exclaimed with a laugh. "It's only been – what – ten days?!"

"Twelve, actually," Rachel corrected. "And that's long enough seeing as we used to spend every minute of every day together before he suddenly grew up and left for college."

"Well, he'll be home for vacation soon," Victoria said. "And then you can go back to spending plenty of time together!"

"The minute he gets back we can go riding together to Spring Meadow!"

"I somehow don't think he'll want to go riding the _minute_ he gets back," Jarrod said with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

* * *

That evening, when Rachel had gone to bed, the rest of the family sat around the living room and talked together.

"So what exactly happened, Jarrod?" Heath asked. "What riled her enough to fight that Shaw gal?"

"Bertha was calling you names," Jarrod explained. "Rachel gave her a warning or two to stop, but she didn't. Rachel couldn't hold her temper any more, and just knocked Bertha over."

Heath shook his head in disbelief. "And to think there was a time when she said she hated me, and always would."

"She never meant it when she said it, Heath," Victoria said. "It was just she was confused when you turned up. I don't think she's ever hated you – not even when you first came along."

Heath grinned, "Well, she certainly proved that today."

"I still can hardly believe that she fought her," Audra said, looking up from her needlework. "Alright, she can lose her temper at times – but this? Was Fred Madden very cross with her, Jarrod?"

"When he brought her into my office he was," Jarrod said. "Rachel looked scared out of her wits – but proud at the same time."

"I hope you spoke to her about that," Victoria put in. "She did seem so very proud about what she'd done."

Jarrod smiled as he stood up and wondered over to the fireplace where he took a cigar out of his pocket and lit it. "Yes, I spoke to her. I think she was proud that she had defended Heath, and that she had been like her brothers, too. She kept using the excuse that we've got in fights at some time or other, and so couldn't see why she couldn't, too." Jarrod paused a second and then resumed thoughtfully, "I spoke to her though – and I think she understands now. Though saying that, she did want to hit Bertha again when she went to apologize – did she tell you that?"

"No," Victoria said. "She didn't."

"Well, Bertha was saying things again that got Rachel's dander up – but she boasted to me that she didn't punch Bertha, and declared that she ought to have a medal for it after what she went through!"

Heath grinned, "I never knew our little sister could get so riled! Of course, we all know who she takes after."

Nick found everyone turn their eyes to him. "Oh, thank you very much!" he exclaimed. "Are you trying to say _I _get riled easily?"

"Well, brother Nick," Jarrod said, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Wouldn't that be the truth?"

Nick fell silent, for once, because he knew that Jarrod was right!

* * *

It was a week later. Jarrod had just arrived home after a day in his office in Stockton. He was about to enter the house when a raised voice met his ears.

"That's not fair, Heath Barkley! Not fair at all!"

Before he could open the front door, it swung open on him, and out darted an animated Rachel. She rushed past him without a single word of greeting.

Jarrod raised his eyebrows. What was it this time?

Stepping into the house and placing his briefcase on the table, Jarrod turned to a helpless looking Heath who stood in the middle of the living room.

"Well, what have you done to deserve her anger?" Jarrod asked simply.

"Boy howdy, Jarrod, that gal has a temper!"

"I gathered that – but what did you do?"

"All I said was no!"

"No?" Jarrod asked. "To what?"

"She wants to go with me. I'm going on a hunting trip – and I didn't think it was for her. I was just going to get away from the heat in town – and I thought she should stay home. It's different her going with you to Frisco, like she was going to last time – but going on a hunting trip. It isn't exactly a girl's trip."

"I see what you mean," Jarrod said. "And little sister doesn't like it."

"No, Jarrod – not at all."

Jarrod smiled. "I'll go and talk to her – besides," he added, gesturing to an envelope in his hand, "I've got a little bribe here for her."

"Gene's replied to her then?"

Jarrod nodded his head, and wandered out of the house to find his sister.

* * *

It didn't take long for Jarrod to find Rachel. He knew her special places around the ranch.

She was hidden amongst the hay up in the hayloft in the barn.

"Why – fancy finding you up here!" Jarrod exclaimed, sitting down next to her.

"What are you doing here?" Rachel asked quietly.

Jarrod raised his eyebrows, and hid his smile of amusement. "I came looking for you actually. When I was in town today, I picked up something for you."

Rachel turned to look at Jarrod. "You picked up something for me? What?"

Jarrod smiled, glad that she was interested. He fished out the envelope from his pocket. "Do you by any chance recognize the hand?"

Rachel's eyes devoured the handwriting on the envelope. There was no mistaking her brother Gene's writing. She made a grab for the letter, but Jarrod lifted it out of reach.

"Jarrod! Give it here!" Rachel insisted. "It's addressed to me!"

"Just a minute. I thought you were looking a little sad a moment ago. Do you want to tell me why?"

"Sad? I'm not sad! Jarrod! Please give me my letter!"

Jarrod finally gave in. "Alright – but a kiss for the bearer!" he said, making Rachel lean over and give him a grateful kiss.

"Thanks for bringing it to me, Jarrod!" she exclaimed eagerly.

"Well, enjoy reading it, little sister," Jarrod said. He wandered over to the ladder, but paused a moment before he descended. "Honey – Heath only said no because he cares. He wouldn't want anything to happen to you!"

Rachel looked at Jarrod in almost exasperation. How did he manage to always find out about her? Jarrod smiled at his little sister, and then climbed down the ladder.

Quickly putting all previous thoughts aside, Rachel tore the envelope open, and read the following:

_Dearest Rachel,_

_Well, little sister! You certainly have been up to a lot since you last wrote. I guess I can no longer call you a mouse! You're more of a mountain lion now, aren't you?_

_Well, Mountain Lion – I can hardly believe you got into a fight! Well, on the other hand, I can – because I know how angry you can get if anyone wrongs our family! But still, I was very surprised when I read your letter. I hope you realize that you shouldn't fight though, little sister. I'm sure you won't get in any more in the future – will you?_

Rachel pulled a face before continuing.

_I am missing you, too. But don't worry. I will be home soon! And most importantly, I will be home in time to help celebrate your fifteenth birthday! I am really looking forward to seeing you. Have you changed at all? You've probably sprouted into a beautiful young lady that I will hardly recognize!_

Rachel smiled. Eugene was always there with a compliment for his sister.

_Yes, I have been studying hard. I am enjoying my studies very much – but that hardly makes up for my being away from all of you. _

_Tell Heath from me to ignore whatever people might say against him. We all believe in him, and that's what counts._

_Tell everyone that I love them all, and really miss them. But I will come home to you all soon._

_I look forward to going riding with you again. Where shall we go first? Spring Meadow? The Mokelumne River? You choose – you always know what pleases me!_

_Well, I must close now. But always remember, little sister. No matter what happens – no matter what a mountain lion you are – you will always be my Mouse._

_I love you very much, Rachel._

_See you very soon._

_Much love to you, and all the family,_

_Eugene x_

Rachel smiled with insuperable pleasure – glad to have finally heard from her dear brother, Gene.

* * *

"Why can't I go on the hunting trip Heath?" Rachel asked after supper that evening. "I would love it so much! I'd be really good – honest! Don't you want me with you?"

"It's not that, little sister," Heath said.

"Then what is it then?" Rachel asked, looking up at him beseechingly with her puppy dog eyes.

Heath tried to ignore the look she gave him because he knew he'd give in. "A hunting trip isn't for girls!"

"But I can shoot well! Nick taught me! And I'd like to get away from the heat just as much as you! Why – I can't go into town without everyone staring at me after what happened between me and Bertha!"

"That is your own fault though!" Jarrod put in, which did not impress Rachel.

"Please, Heath. Surely you don't want to be all by yourself? I wouldn't get in your way – and if at any time you wanted me to go home, I would! I promise! Just please let me try!"

"I wouldn't let you ride home by yourself, and you know it!" Heath commented. He paused before continuing. "Little sister, I'm glad you want to go with me – and I'd really love you to be with me, too. It's just…"

"Then you'll say yes? You will, won't you? Eugene would take me if he was here! I just know he would! I'll be an invaluable companion! You will let me go with you, won't you?"

Heath looked into Rachel's pleading eyes, and then over her head to Jarrod with a questioning look. When Jarrod smiled and gave Heath a slight nod, Heath looked back at Rachel with a grin.

"Well, little sister. When you first brought this up this evening, my mind was made up. But somehow you seem to have the power to change even the most stubborn minds! I don't know what I'm letting us both in for – but I suppose you can come along, if you really want to!"

Rachel's face melted into a look of surprise and delight. "You mean I can? You've said yes? I really can? Oh, thank you Heath! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

And she threw her arms around her big brother and squeezed him.

"Just one thing little sister," Heath said, holding her back from him so that he could look her in the eyes. "You'd better mind me…"

"Oh, I will! I will!"

"And," Heath continued. "Don't you go messing with any guns! You only shoot if I've given you permission! Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" Rachel cried excitedly. "Whatever you say!"

"Another thing," Heath continued. "There are a lot of dangerous animals out there…"

"Oh, Heath!" Rachel cried. "I know! I can handle myself fine – there's no need to worry. Besides, I'll have my big brother there to look out for me!"

Heath grinned at her.

"We'll have such a wonderful time," Rachel cried. "I've always wanted to go on a hunting trip! Thank you so much for saying yes! I'll be so good. Why – I'll even cook for you!"

Heath groaned. "Boy howdy! Why ever did I say yes?"

Rachel gave Heath an indignant look before she realized that he was only teasing her. Heath smiled and ruffled Rachel's hair much to her annoyance. He shook his head at her. Rachel sure had him wrapped around her little finger!

* * *

**Well, I hope you enjoyed that. In the next chapter, the journey begins. What could be in store for them?**


	6. The Hunting Trip

**Here you are. Chapter six! I hope it makes you smile (and laugh) as much as I did when I wrote it! Rachel D :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 6 – The Hunting Trip**

Heath and Rachel began preparing things for the hunting trip over the next couple of days. The time flew, and before Rachel knew it, she had said goodbye to her mother, brothers and sister, and was on her way with Heath.

"I'm so excited!" she said, as she urged Blazing Star next to Heath's horse. She pulled the brim of her Stetson hat down lower, for fear of getting more freckles than she would like. "Gummy! It's hot, isn't it?"

"It sure is," Heath said. "And it's gonna get a lot hotter. Are you sure you want to come?"

"You really don't think I'm capable, do you?" Rachel asked, pretending to be offended. "Don't you want me along, Heath? What's your real reason – my cooking? Is it really that bad? I'll admit I've never cooked over an open campfire before; but as I always say, there's a first time for everything!"

Heath grinned. "You know I love to have you along. I was just making sure that you'll cope alright."

"I am perfectly capable of anything that comes my way, as I am sure I will be able to prove on this trip, Heath Barkley. Don't you think otherwise! You won't hear a word of complaint out of me, I guarantee!"

Little did Rachel know how much her words were to be tested!

They continued along their way. Heath was leading a packhorse, piled high with all the things needed for a hunting trip.

"So, when do I get to take a shot at something?" Rachel asked excitedly.

"Only when I say," Heath replied.

"I realize that – but when _do_ you say? I'd like to know, Heath. After all, I'm an impeccable shot. I haven't used a gun for a while – but I haven't lost my touch. No fear!"

"When was the last time you used a gun? When you borrowed Nick's?"

Rachel laughed. "That's right! I thought he'd be so mad – but he wasn't really. Was he?"

"I think he might have been if it hadn't been for the fact that it saved the bank from being robbed."

Rachel thought back to that time that she had been held hostage with her sister Audra. The men that had captured them had demanded ransom money for them. Then, a little while later, they had turned up in town to rob the bank. She proudly remembered that if it hadn't have been for her 'borrowing' Nick's gun and firing it in the air when she saw the outlaws, they would have got away with the bank's money without being caught!

The day wore on. Heath and Rachel continued riding, occasionally stopping to have a refreshing drink from their canteens. The weather was hot. The breeze was stiff and dry. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Rachel tugged at her bandana around her neck, and undid a button on her shirt.

It was still hot when they decided to make camp much later. The sun was beginning to melt beneath the skyline, but it didn't refuse to give off its heat for as long as it was visible. Rachel sighed in relief when she finally dismounted and knelt next to the waterhole that was a few yards off from their camp. She gratefully splashed her face with some water. It was cold and fresh, and revived her immediately!

Heath kneeled next to Rachel, and taking off his hat, plunged his head into the icy cold waters, dousing all feelings of tiredness. Upon seeing her brother next to her, Rachel quickly rose to her feet, and only hesitating a moment whilst grinning mischievously, she gave Heath a push!

With a great splash, Heath tumbled into the waterhole, head first!

After a great deal of splashing, he got to his feet, and looked at Rachel. Water dripped from his head in large drops, and his clothes stuck to him. Rachel wasn't sure whether to laugh or run! She decided on the former.

"Heath," she said between laughs. "I'm so, so sorry! I just couldn't help myself! Heath?"

Without warning Heath advanced – and as soon as he did, Rachel knew she should have run!

* * *

Rachel sat closer to the fire, trying to dry her wet clothes. Occasionally she let out an amused giggle which Heath always raised an eyebrow to as he set to work unloading the packhorse.

"I thought you said you'd be good," Heath finally spoke.

Rachel smiled. "I was only teasing – you know that! If it was bad, then you shouldn't have done it in return!"

Heath grinned, "Alright, you've got me there. But no more dunking on this trip!"

"Agreed, Heath Barkley, agreed!"

"Well," Heath said. "I think it's about time we got some chow cooking. I'll make up a stew for supper. How does that sound? It won't be a feast, but it'll hit the spot!"

"Anything sounds good right now!" Rachel said, trying to rub away the hollow feeling in her stomach that was beginning to hurt.

It wasn't long before the two of them were sitting by the fire, letting the heat steam off their still wet clothes. Both were scraping their plates till they were clean.

"That was an interesting flavour Heath – I don't think I've had it before. It tasted a little like chicken. What was it?" Rachel asked, licking her fork clean.

Heath eyed her a moment. "Oh, just a stew!"

"I realize that. But what kind? It was a little burnt, but I guess that's the campfire flavour. Apart from that, it was rather nice!"

"Thank you little sister. I'm glad someone appreciates my cooking. Are you sure you want to know the flavour?"

"Yes please," Rachel said. "Maybe I can cook it for you tomorrow."

"Alright then – Bullfrog!"

"What?"

"Bullfrog!

Rachel swallowed hard. "_Bullfrog_?"

"That's right. Bullfrog stew!"

Rachel stared at Heath a moment. "Excuse me," she said, scrambling to her feet. "I think I'm gonna be sick!" and she quickly ran off.

* * *

Rachel snuggled under her bedroll. It had been so hot that day, why was it so cold now? She was beginning to shiver. She felt sick. She was exhausted! Her whole body had a dull ache in it from being in the saddle all day, now punctuated by the cold night air. The coyotes were beginning to holler – and they sounded pretty close! It was so dark that she wanted her mother to hold her. But despite all that, she was enjoying herself! Strangely enough, she felt a tingle of thrill and excitement as all these new and strange feelings grasped her.

Another coyote sounded. This one seemed closer than all the others. "Heath! Are you awake?" Rachel whispered nervously into the darkness. She shivered as she waited for an answer. It was almost scary – but Rachel told herself that she was never afraid of anything!

As Heath didn't answer, Rachel just turned over and closed her eyes. However, the next howl made her sit upright!

"_You are not scared. You are not scared! There's still a fire! They won't approach when there's a fire – will they? Or is that wolves? Is it both? Heath…"_

Rachel's thoughts dashed around her quickly as she began to shake unwittingly. When another coyote let out a cry, Rachel could stand it no longer. Quickly and silently she hopped out of her bedroll and tugged it over to where her brother lay. She quickly laid it next to him, and then burrowed under the blanket. Then she snuggled her head into Heath's chest using him as a pillow. She took a deep breath. His shirt still smelt damp, even though it was now dry, and it mixed with the other scents that she was used to. They were comforting. She nestled into his body more, letting his presence quiet her beating heart. He felt warm, and most of all, strong! Rachel heaved a sigh and closed her eyes – now quite content.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed it. In the next chapter, things really start to happen! Please review! I love to hear from you guys! :-)**


	7. A Morning Visitor

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. This is where all the adventure truly begins . . .**

* * *

**Chapter 7 – A Morning Visitor**

Heath felt the sun tease his eyelids open. He sat up and looked around him. Much to his surprise, he found Rachel curled up right next to him. He smiled. She sure looked cute. She didn't look like she was turning fifteen. She looked more like a twelve year old. Making sure that he didn't disturb her, he crawled out of his bedroll, and wandered off to chop some wood for a fire.

* * *

Rachel turned in her sleep. Something kept breaking up her dream. What was it? She finally opened her eyes, trying to register where she was and what that strange sound was. She couldn't quite place it. She eased herself up into a sitting position, pushing the bedroll off her, and looking around.

She suddenly froze with fear. Her mind instantly registered the rattling noise when she saw a snake right next to her left leg. It was a couple of feet long – and there was no mistaking what kind of snake it was.

"_A rattlesnake! Oh, my! Heath – I need you! God – help me! Don't let it bite me!"_ Rachel thought desperately. She flashed her eyes around, looking for a gun. To her relief, she saw that Heath had left a rifle next to his bedroll. If she could only reach across and get it without alarming the snake…

"_The smaller they are, the more angry they get!"_ she reminded herself. _"That's a pretty small snake, I guess. Oh, dear – oh, no! Oh, help!"_

Rachel slowly reached out her hand and eased herself toward the rifle without moving her leg. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest – she was sure that was enough to startle the snake!

Finally she felt her fingers close around the rifle. Without taking her eyes away from the slimy reptile, she began to lift the gun from where it lay on the ground. All she could do was pray, _"Please come, Heath! God – please send Heath to me. Don't let him startle the snake, though, Lord! Don't let it bite me!"_

The snake was still rapidly shaking its rattle. Rachel knew that that meant it was warning her to stay away. _"I don't want to go near you, you stupid snake!"_ she thought. _"Leave me alone, and I'll leave you alone!"_

But it was no good! Just as she thought she had a good grip on the rifle, it suddenly slipped from her fingers. It fell with a thud to the floor. Instantly the rattling noise stopped and a searing, burning sensation seared through Rachel's leg. She jumped as the agony set in. She wanted to scream as fear set in and took over the pain – but she didn't. If anything, she was too terrified even for that. Instead she just stayed there, watching as the serpent slowly slid away. She needed Heath – she knew that! But even when she tried to call him, her voice caught in her throat. She sank back on her bedroll, letting the pain and fear take over her.

* * *

It seemed an eternity to Rachel before Heath wandered into camp, whistling a merry tune softly. He looked across at Rachel, not noticing her unusually pale face at first.

"So, you're finally up then? Did you have a good night? I trust the coyotes managed to scare you," he grinned when he remembered the picture of her curled up next to him that morning.

Setting down the wood that he carried in his arms, he looked over at his little sister. To his surprise, he found Rachel trying to support herself on her bedroll whilst tears coursed themselves down her cheeks. He was next to her in a second.

"Rachel – what's the matter?" Heath asked. "Are you hurt?"

"Oh, Heath – help me!" Rachel cried. "I should have called for you – but I felt too weak." Rachel was beginning to pant, which made Heath frown with concern.

"What happened?" he demanded urgently, taking her by the shoulders in a gentle hold.

"It bit me!" Rachel sobbed. "A rattlesnake bit me!"

Heath's heart seemed to miss a beat for a second. "A rattlesnake _bit _you!" he repeated in alarm.

Rachel tearfully nodded her head, pointing to her leg. Heath immediately saw the red area where the fangs had set in. "I was too scared to call out for you. I was too weak."

"I've got to get the poison out," Heath exclaimed, trying to stay calm for her sake. He hated what he had to do now! "Now, little sister – this is gonna hurt like nothing else. I need you to look away and try not to think about what's happening. Scream and yell all you like if it helps – but I have to do this!"

Rachel's eyes grew wide with fear. What was Heath going to do? She looked away, trying to focus on the Valley Oak that shaded their camp. She could feel Heath hesitating, as if he didn't want to cause her any more pain.

Suddenly, an awful searing pain shot through her leg in the same place where she had been bitten, making her body jolt. Tears stung Rachel's eyes, and she fought against them with all her might. A scream caught in her throat and came out in a husky and muffled cry. When the second pang of pain came, Rachel couldn't bear it any longer. She began to sob! Turning her head quickly to see if Heath was finished, she saw him lay down a bloody knife on the ground, and stoop next to Rachel's leg. He pressed the cut that he had made to his mouth and sucked, quickly spitting it away on the ground. He sucked the wound several times, and then tore the bandana from his neck, using it as a bandage for her leg.

"Oh, Heath! Heath!" Rachel sobbed once he was finished. "Am I gonna die!"

"No, Rachel," Heath said, quickly wrapping her in his arms. "Don't say anything like that! I'm sorry that I had to hurt you – but it was the only way to get the poison out! I'm so sorry, little sister!"

Rachel buried her head in Heath's shoulder. Heath let her cry there for a few minutes whilst the guilt set in. The first time the family leave Rachel completely in his charge, and this happens to her! What would they say? Would Rachel be alright? Why hadn't he watched over her more closely? He knew the dangers of the trail – the creatures that haunted it. He shouldn't have left her by herself!

As he continued to beat himself up about what had happened, he couldn't help but notice that Rachel was snatching at her breaths in between her sobs. Her breathing sounded tight and forced. That wasn't good.

"I don't mean to be baby…" Rachel's voice finally interrupted her cries.

Heath felt a wave of relief when she spoke. He was glad that her tears had died down enough for that. "You're not a baby – you're very brave," he said, holding her close. "A lot of people would have been screaming out much more than you were! Now, we need to get you to some help. Do you think you could ride?"

"I'll try!" Rachel said faintly. Heath stood up and tried to help Rachel to her feet. She crumpled up at once. "I can't walk on it – I feel all weak. And I'm all numb!"

Heath put an arm around his sister to support her, and looked around him wildly. "I'm sure there's a line shack not far away. It's closer than the ranch and the doctor. I'll take you there and make you comfortable whilst I go and get help."

Rachel nodded her head, trying to focus on what Heath was saying. She could only feel the ringing pain vibrate up her body till it seemed to pulsate in her head.

She suddenly felt herself being lifted up. Normally she would have protested to being carried like a baby – but not this time. She felt too weak to argue.

Heath set Rachel down on his horse, and then quickly mounted up behind Rachel.

"Why am I so weak and numb?" Rachel asked feebly.

"Don't you worry about it now! The line shack isn't far, little sister. Try to hang on," was Heath's reply. He kicked Charger on, and the horse set off, with Heath holding onto his sister to keep her from slipping.

"_Why didn't we just go onto the line shack last night? I should have pushed the horses and Rachel a little further – even though they were bushed – but at least this wouldn't have happened! Now she's been bitten by a snake – and I don't know if I reacted quick enough! Did I get all the poison out? I ought to ask her how long after the bite I came back and … but I don't want to worry her. If it was a long time, then that's not good, and she'll know it! Worrying is the last thing that's gonna help little sister at the moment. If only she had screamed or called for me! There was a rifle there! She could have shot it! Or didn't she because I told her not to shoot a gun unless I said otherwise? No – she would know that I meant that unless it was an emergency – wouldn't she? Oh, Heath Barkley – you've made a blundering fool mistake. You never should have left that little gal alone. You know how much she means to you – and now she could get awful sick. She could die!"_

The journey seemed forever to a sick girl and a guilty conscience. However, just like Heath had predicted, a little line shack came into view about half-an-hour later. Once outside the building, he dismounted, Rachel practically falling off Charger into his arms.

"I'm going to make you comfortable here," Heath said, "and then ride as fast as I can to get help. You're gonna have to be brave, little sister."

Rachel nodded her head weakly, not quite sure what Heath was saying. His voice seemed faint and far away.

Heath, still carrying Rachel in his arms, walked over to the door of the shack, and kicked it open. Hurrying inside and over to a reasonably clean bed, he laid her on it.

The click of a gun hammer behind him made him freeze, alerting him that they were not the first ones to come across that shack.

"What are you doing here, Mister?" a voice asked.

Heath hesitated, his ears telling him that the voice behind him was not friendly. He looked at Rachel, who had a look of weak and hopeless fear on her face, and then quickly glanced at his gun, loose and ready in his holster.

"I said what's your business, Stranger? What ya doin' bustin' into a place – huh?"

Heath let his hand hover over his gun, and then quickly spun around, drawing it from his holster. Instantly he saw a flash of a man's face and the butt end of a gun, at the same time feeling a sharp, thudding, burning sensation in his head. Heath saw a blurred view of the floor, and then complete darkness.

* * *

**Da da daaa! I hope you enjoyed that chapter. Please, please, please review! Thankyou! :-)**


	8. The Counterfeiters

**Hi all! Sorry for leaving you waiting for a while - but I had a busy weekend! Anyway, here's the next chapter at last!**

* * *

**Chapter 8 – The Counterfeiters**

Rachel looked weakly down at her brother's form, lying prostrate on the floor of the shack.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded weakly. "Why did you hold a gun on us?"

"He drew his gun, you can see that," the man replied in a harsh voice. "I had no choice. He would have shot me. I can't afford to be shot just now. I'm expecting company!"

Rachel shook her head. She couldn't take in what the man was saying. She could barely see him. For some reason, everything had gone all blurry. She found her eyelids drooping, and she just let herself go. She didn't want to – she wanted to stay awake so that she would be there for Heath when he woke up. But she was so tired that she just let herself fall asleep.

* * *

When Rachel woke up, Heath was sitting at the end of the bed, his head hanging limply. The stranger was watching on from the other end of the room, clutching the barrel of a rifle with both hands as the butt rested on the floor.

"Heath?" Rachel whispered, disturbing the silence.

He looked up instantly. "How are you, little sister?" he asked quietly.

"How's your head?" was her worried reply.

"A bit heavy – but right now, I'm more worried about you."

"I'm alright," Rachel said weakly, braving a smile. The sweat beaded on her brow, but despite that she was shivering. Heath looked at her anxiously.

"Heath – who is he – the man?" Rachel whispered, insinuating with her head towards the stranger. "Why was he so …so unfriendly?"

"I don't know – but I'm sure we'll find out before this is all over. Now – don't you worry your pretty little head over it! Just start planning on getting well again – and then we'll worry about getting home."

Rachel braved a smile for her brother. Inside, however, was a feeling of uncertainty and fear which she could not put aside. Whether it was this new-found danger – as it seemed – that made her feel so perturbed; or whether it was the weakening, sickening feeling that shook her body and pained her leg, she did not know. But one question that stood out in her mind was one that added to the frown on her forehead.

"_Will we both get home – alive?"_

The stranger seemed to find no need in talking to them – and just stared at them all the time, a greedy smile painted on his face.

It was the sound of three gentle, low taps on the door that drew the man's attention away from his captives. He quickly stood up and wandered over to the door. In hushed voices a few words were spoken between the man and those without before he quickly opened the door for them.

Two men entered. One was a rather large figure – quite simply short and fat! The other was quite the opposite – very lean, and uncommonly tall; his skin was greasy and the stubble grew rather thickly on his oily face.

Out of the two men – though both were equally intriguing characters to catch the eye – the one that made Heath start, wide-eyed, was the short and large one.

"Mr. Bridgeman!" Heath exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Mr. Bridgeman – what are you doing here?"

Mr. Bridgeman looked rather annoyed and disgusted all at once. He looked over at the man who had slugged Heath.

"What's _he_ doing here?" he asked in his usual tone of voice – one that revealed boredom and impatience.

"Came charging in 'cause that gal's all laid up. Tried to draw his gun on me, and I made sure he slept for a while."

Bridgeman's eyes smiled, whilst the rest of his features remained empty and impassive. "Proving to be trouble again, Barkley?"

"Again? What do you mean 'again'?"

"Charging into me in Stockton and spying the contents of my case! Sending agents on my trail! Surely you realize that's a bit of a handful, even for a mastermind like me. But ah, well – they seem to think it's that worker of yours. No one would suspect a man like me. I'm too important."

"So it was you!" Heath exclaimed. "You are the counterfeiter! Or is it all of you? Is that why you're here – why he gave us such a 'warm' welcome?"

"I'm glad you like our mode of hospitality, Barkley. Now – I'm going to have to ask you to stay with us a little longer. We have a bit of work to be done – and we must ask you to stay whilst we do it."

"No – we won't be staying here a moment longer!" Heath turned to Rachel and found her shivering in a cold sweat. He dropped to his knees by her side.

"Well, Mr. Barkley – I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter. Stevenson!"

Heath sensed someone approach behind him and felt something hard pressed against his head. There was no mistaking was it was. It was a gun!

"And whilst you're here," Bridgeman went on, "I should like to extend my thanks to you."

"Thanks? To me?" Heath said, the vehemence of his disgust showing in his voice. He tried to look at Bridgeman without turning his head.

"That's right. I do believe your name has had something of a black mark put upon it lately. Why, that's been so much the talk of town, the printed money seems to have been put aside. I've been able to release even more money than usual without anyone being suspicious."

Heath stared at Mr. Bridgeman's face. It was sort of like a poker-face – only in Heath's mind, Bridgeman gambled with people instead of money. Wasn't that what it was? Destroying people by planting false money into their banks and economy! Worthless money, counterfeit money – it ruined people, and he was willing for that to happen so long as everything went well for him.

And what about Scott Parson? Mr. Bridgeman was willing for Scott to be found guilty of a crime that he hadn't even committed. A crime that Bridgeman himself had committed! It made Heath sick to the stomach just to think of it.

"Heath…" a murmured cry from his little sister drew his thoughts away from their captor.

"What is it, little sister? I'm right here," Heath said comfortingly.

"My leg hurts, Heath," Rachel said between shivers. "It hurts real bad!"

Heath turned back to the three men. "Do you have some clean rags and some water. I need to clean the wound."

"What happened to her?" Bridgeman asked uninterestedly.

"She got bitten – by a rattlesnake. I need to clean the wound. Now are you gonna get the things I need or am I gonna have to fight each one of you to get them!"

Glancing at the man with the gun, Stevenson, Bridgeman said in a bored and relenting voice, "Oh, let him have the things he needs. I don't really want him making a big fuss. I'm only here to get down to business. Stott, go and get the things he needs for the girl."

The tall man, Stott, did as Bridgeman said, and soon Heath was cleaning the wound on Rachel's leg and changing the bandage.

"There now, it'll still hurt, but at least it's clean," Heath said, securing a rag around Rachel's now swollen leg.

Rachel pulled a face. "I'm thirsty. My tongue is tingling strangely. I guess I haven't had anything to drink for a while."

Heath looked around him desperately and, spying a canteen on the table, stood up. Instantly Stevenson drew the hammer back on his gun.

"Look, I'm just getting her that canteen. She's thirsty. You can't shoot a man for that!"

"He right, Stevenson," Bridgeman said. "Let him have the water."

Reluctantly, Stevenson let Heath pass. Quickly picking up the canteen, and hurrying back to Rachel's side, Heath raised her head whilst pouring some of the liquid down her throat. He knew that her tongue felt strange not from lack of water, but from the snake bite – but he didn't want to admit it to himself. He didn't want to notice any of the symptoms that were appearing in Rachel. He couldn't bear for her to get sick when she was in his care. Heath felt himself sinking into the reality of the bleakness of their situation. Right now they were being held in a line shack far from the ranch by men who cared only for their own skins and plans. What was worse, Rachel was hurt bad. She was showing many of the symptoms – and he could do nothing else to help her.

Heath picked up Rachel's hand and held it close. He could not bear to lose the little sister that he had learnt to love so much!

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**Hope you enjoyed! Please review!**


	9. A Turn for the Worse

**Here we go! I hope you are all enjoying this story. Thanks to Nina and Kimberleah for reviewing my story so far! I really appreciate hearing from you all!**

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**Chapter 9 – A Turn for the Worse**

Heath held onto Rachel's hand tightly as she stared up at the ceiling tearfully.

"Heath?" she said weakly.

"What is it, little sister?"

"I wish I could see the family again… just one more time."

Heath's brow furrowed. "Now, don't talk like that," he said, his voice catching with fear.

"Heath – I have to say what I'm about to say. Please let me. I don't want to die – but I don't think I can make it."

"Rachel, you're going to be alright!" Heath said, trying to persuade himself as much as her.

"Please, Heath. Please! Tell Mother – oh! I wish I could have seen her again! I wish – I wish!" the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Just tell them all that I love them. I wish I could always be with them. Tell Mother that I know I always was wild – but I did so want to be the perfect daughter for her. Tell her that, won't you?" Heath didn't answer – he couldn't speak. His little sister was dying right in front of him, and there was nothing her could do about it!

"Then Jarrod – I never will have that trip with him to Frisco. Tell him to take Audra with him instead. She always loves to go there with him. Tell him I always wanted to please Pappy – and I'm sorry for the times I disappointed him. Tell Nick I was looking forward to when he was going to teach me how to break a bronc. I won't be able to do that now. Not ever. Then there's Audra. She's been the perfect sister to me. I couldn't have asked for a better sister. I hope I was a good enough sister for her. And Eugene – oh Gene!" a sob escaped her. "I've missed him so much. I was so close to seeing him again, and now –" she sucked her breath in. "Just, when you do see him, tell him that nothing can ever separate us. He told me that himself, in the letter he wrote to me when he first left. Tell him that I'll always be in his heart, and that will keep us together, even though I won't be there in person. Tell him his Mouse will always, always be with him in his heart."

Heath lifted Rachel's hand to his forehead in desperation. She turned her head to him. "As for you Heath, don't be sad. When you first came to the ranch, I didn't want you to be there because I couldn't understand. I do now. I understand that you're my brother, and I love you so much. That's why I don't regret coming on this trip. I wouldn't have missed it for anything! I've been with you – and that's what counts. I do wish we could have missed running into so much trouble – but I guess we can't have everything we want, now, can we?" She reached out a trembling hand and wiped a single tear from his cheek. "Don't cry, Heath," she said, her own tears beginning to take over. "Please don't cry, for my sake. I need you to be strong. Right now I need strength – and I don't have any of my own. I'm relying on yours." Her voice shook with emotion as she spoke. "Oh, Heath!" she suddenly exclaimed. "I don't want to die! Hold me tight! Please stay with me!"

"I'm here," Heath said, squeezing her hand as tightly as he could as if he could force life into her by doing so. "I'm here little sister. I'm not going anywhere. You stay here, too – do you hear me?"

"I am going someplace, Heath," Rachel answered quietly. "I think I am. I feel so ill that I feel it's got to end at some time. I just want it to end. So, I guess I am going to leave you, Heath. I'm going to Heaven. I'm going to Daddy, Heath! I'm gonna see my Daddy again!"

"No you're not!" Heath said desperately. "You're staying right here. And before you know it, you'll be well again! We'll both ride back home to the ranch. To the family! Then Eugene will come home. You can go riding with him – remember?! He'll be counting on it! You always used to go riding with Gene."

"No, Heath. You can't change what's meant to be…"

"I can try, can't I?" Heath said. His voice was husky with emotion. "I can't let anything happen to you, Rachel. I've already let the family down on that account. I can't let you die too!"

"Don't blame yourself!" Rachel said. "I should have called you when it happened. I don't know how long you were – but it seemed a long time. I was just so scared. So scared I couldn't even scream! I've never felt that scared before."

There was a moment of silence before Rachel continued.

"Heath – make me a promise."

"What's that?" Heath said, raising his head to look Rachel in the eyes as he let her hand rest at her side. "Anything, little sister! Anything you want!"

Rachel's voice turned to a whisper, so that the men in the room would not hear her. "You – and Nick and Jarrod, and Eugene, too – I want you all to show Stockton what Mr. Bridgeman really is. And I want them to know what you really are. You're kind, and loving and caring – you're special, Heath. Very special! They need to know that! They did you wrong, Heath. I want them to know that you're better than Mr. Bridgeman. That he's nothing more than a … snake!" she smiled ruefully. "I guess we've met a good too many snakes on this trip, huh Heath?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"That's the thing. I think there are two types of snakes – don't you?"

"Two types? I think there are a few more than that."

"No – I mean the kind that wriggle on their bellies, and the kind with two legs."

Heath sighed. "You're right there."

"I don't like snakes, Heath," Rachel said, flinching as the pain in her leg grew intense. "I don't like them at all!"

"Me neither."

There was a pause before Rachel next spoke. "Heath?"

"Yes? What is it?"

"Nothing – just I like saying that. It makes me feel happier – knowing you're there."

Heath gathered her hand in his again. "Well I'm right here. And I'm not going to leave you. And that's a promise! Just you promise me that you won't go anyplace. I can't bear for you to leave me, little sister. I can't let you go!"

Rachel closed her eyes and this time, her answer was weaker than before, "I don't want to go – but I can't promise Heath. I can't promise."

Heath studied her face with a frown. She looked pale, and her face was damp with a mixture of sweat and tears.

"Rachel," he whispered.

"I'm here," she said. "I haven't left you yet."

Heath shuddered at the 'yet'. He couldn't bear for her to ever leave him.

"_Dear God, spare my little sister!"_

"Oh!" Rachel suddenly exclaimed, interrupting Heath's silent prayer.

"What is it?" Heath asked, worry piercing his voice.

"I feel … dizzy."

"Dizzy?" Heath asked.

"Yes, and …" Rachel's voice died away.

"Rachel?" Heath said, panic beginning to etch his voice. "Rachel?"

"Heath …" Rachel's voice was far away. She was speaking so quietly he could scarcely hear her. Her lips barely moved as she spoke. "I'm going to Daddy! I'm going to my Daddy!"

There was silence. "Rachel!" Heath said. "Rachel! Answer me!"

But there was no answer. Rachel lay quiet and still – a frown of pain on her brow, and a smile of sweet recognition on her lips.

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**I hope this wasn't too dramatic - but I do like a bit of drama! (I'm a bit of a drama queen, I must admit!) Please review! I LOVE to hear from you! :-)**


	10. Hiding the Evidence

**Hi All! Here's chapter 10. I hope you enjoy! :-) **

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**Chapter 10 – Hiding the Evidence**

"Rachel – please answer me little one!" Heath said aloud whilst inwardly, he prayed as hard as ever he could, _"Don't let her be dead!"_

Heath quickly felt for Rachel's heartbeat, and sank back in relief as he felt one, though it was very weak.

"Is she dead?" Bridgeman's uninterested voice sounded behind Heath.

"What do you care?" Heath asked bitterly. He turned his head to look up at his captor as he still squatted next to Rachel's side. "I thought you were too busy swindling people to care if they lived or died!"

"I was only asking," Bridgeman declared, ignoring Heath's comment, "because if she is, it saves us from killing you both!"

Heath's eyes started at Bridgeman's words, but he didn't act alarmed in his actions. He just said, in a dangerous tone of voice, "What do you mean by that?"

"Mean? Well – you know our secrets, don't you? I don't think any … any _persuading_ is going to keep you from spilling the beans. We have no choice."

"You do have a choice, Bridgeman," Heath said, standing up. "Either you're ignorant or blind to the fact, or you just don't consider it an option. You could give yourself in! You could do one good deed in your miserable life, by letting an innocent boy who's in jail be set free – and letting me and my sister go so I can get her to the doctor and save what precious life she's got left!"

Bridgeman eyed Heath with apathetic, half-shut eyes. He looked – and sounded – like he was bored or incredibly tired. And the way how every limb of his body – right down to his stubby little fingers – swelled, he looked as if he had just eaten a large meal, and was ready for a nap.

Without saying a word, Bridgeman turned away. "Well, Gentlemen," he said to his two accomplices. "I suppose that is it for another day." He glanced at Heath. "How would you suggest we get rid of them – and the evidence?"

"Quite simple!" Stott said, brushing at his greasy face before following up his words with a greasy grin. "All we have ta do is shoot 'em both and leave 'em out for the wolves. There won't be no evidence left!"

"No – no! I have a better idea," Bridgeman said.

"A better idea? What's wrong with mine? I'm right handy with this here peashooter!" Stott said.

"Yeah, Boss – what's wrong with spillin' their guts?"

"Gentleman – please!" Bridgeman said. "I agree that we have to shoot them – but I prefer the idea of breaking the news to the family after we have 'discovered' the bodies."

"Ya mean pretending we saw a shootout, and breaking the news?!" Stott asked.

"Exactly Gentlemen! I'm glad we think alike. Now how exactly did this 'shooting' occur? Just so we get the facts right for the family."

"Now just a minute!" Heath's voice broke their conversation. "You may kill me – but you won't get away with it. You'll be found out one of these days, Bridgeman!"

"Nonsense, Barkley! I know how to play my cards," Bridgeman said. "I can afford to gamble!"

He turned back to his men. "Here – I have the perfect plan. You both know how I hate bloodshed – so I will go on ahead and tell the Barkley's that I found Heath Barkley and his sister whilst on the trail. She was already dead from a snakebite, and he had been shot. He wasn't yet dead when I arrived, so I stayed with him whilst he said a few last touching words that he wanted me to tell his mother. Then after he had died, I buried them both, and rode out to the Barkley's ranch. Of course, whilst I am riding out to the ranch, you will do the shooting and burying. Stott and I rode by what must have been their camp. You can bury them there. That way I can lead the family to see where they lay. Now, Gentlemen – what do you think?"

"I think it sounds like dirty work – and that's why you want to go onto the ranch," Heath spoke up. "You know it is, and you don't want to dirty your hands!"

Bridgeman looked at Heath with cold eyes before turning back to his men. "Alright then, Gentlemen, I will leave you both now. I would ask you to dispose of him quickly. She must already be dead – or if she isn't yet, she soon will be. It's up to you whether you speed up the inevitable or not."

Then, picking up his briefcase, he turned to Heath. "Well, Barkley – I'm sorry that you had to interfere. I believe that you haven't complicated things too much though. Just very quickly, have you got any 'dying' words that you wanted me to pass onto your family? Ones which I could repeat that don't have anything to do with me?"

Heath shook his head at Bridgeman slowly whilst his mind darted about wildly, trying to think of something that he could say that might arouse the family's suspicions. "Yes – tell them that Rachel wanted them all to know that she loves them – and I say the same. We both love them all, and we'll still be with them in their hearts, even though we won't be there in person."

"Touching, touching," Bridgeman said in a cynical tone, applauding Heath with contempt mockery. "Enough to melt the hardest of hearts!"

"Except yours!" Heath said fiercely.

Bridgeman looked coldly at Heath before adding, "Anything else?"

"Yes – just tell them to read Luke 15 and verse 24."

"How stirring – you even think of a verse to comfort your mourning family! I am completely moved!" Bridgeman said, his voice speaking contrary to his words. "Well then – as that is all you have to say, I will now take my leave of you. I am sorry that it had to turn out this way Barkley. I really am."

"Thanks for making the apology – but I'd rather none at all than an insincere one!" Heath said.

Bridgeman's face remained unmoved, though he would have gladly struck Heath for saying that. Words like that pricked the conscience – and that was not a pleasant feeling for one whose conscience was so heavily laden with guilt!

"Goodbye Gentlemen – goodbye," Bridgeman said, stepping towards the door and opening it. "Please end this horrid business soon. I should like to get some sleep soon," he said, "and you know how much bloodshed upsets my person."

With that Bridgeman stepped out of the shack and closed the door, leaving Heath to face the oncoming storm that awaited him!

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**There we go! I hope you enjoyed that! Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far! It really makes my day to hear from you! Rachel D :-)**


	11. Telling the Family

**Sorry for not updating for a few days! I've been busy again! Working at the stables, going to rehearsals, and celebrating my sister's 20th bday! Anyway, here's chapter 11 at last! :-)**

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**Chapter 11 – Telling the Family**

Bridgeman urged his horse on. He had been at the shack for most of the day – it was dark now. If he rode at a steady pace, then he would reach the Barkley ranch by mid-afternoon the next day. A steady pace for Mr. Bridgeman was what others may call an extremely slow plod; for he had chosen his horse expressly for his ability – or rather, his inability to ride horses.

Though Bridgeman was tired, he was too anxious to complete his plans to go to sleep. He had to ride on tonight. What if they were missed? But no – their packhorses back at their camp had proven that they were going on a long trip. Why was he worrying? Perhaps, though he would not admit it to himself, he was afraid that despite his well thought out plan, the Barkley's would still find a way to outwit him and bring his plans and name crashing down.

But he had left Heath Barkley in the hands of his men – and two capable men they were. At least in terms of the dirty, hands on work that was sometimes necessary. The work that involved fighting and killing! The work that he turned a blind eye to – despite his part in planning some portions of it!

The ride was a long one – and it was especially hard for Bridgeman. For when alone he was faced with his conscience, his plans that had to work, that should work, that could work – that may not work! Though Bridgeman appeared a calm man, behind his mask that he had created over the years was an anxious and worrying spirit. One that could be tossed upon the sea of unrest at the slightest happening, word or even inclination. Though Bridgeman would have declared himself a happy man – when left to his own thoughts it became clear that he was far from such. That he was indeed a most miserable man – an unhappy being that thrived on the sorrow of others.

For was that not his business? Though he sometimes denied it to himself, he more frequently bragged of it to himself. His rising was their downfall!

So, still full of his thoughts, and with a wakeful mind in contrast to his sleepy appearance, Bridgeman finally rode through the gates and up to the front of the Barkley's house. He tumbled off his horse awkwardly, and then, straightening himself as much as he could, he walked up to the front door and knocked calmly.

Silas answered the door, and showed his surprise at seeing Mr. Bridgeman plainly on his face. "Gud aftanun!" Silas said. "Won't ya cum in?"

"Thank you, I will," Bridgeman said, taking on an air of complete gravity. "Is Mrs. Barkley in?"

"Yessuh! She shore is!"

"I should like to speak to her, if you please."

Silas looked Mr. Bridgeman with an eye full of curiosity. "Yessuh," he said quickly. "I'll go an' git her for ya."

"Silas!" Victoria's voice sounded from the top of the stairs. "Silas – what is it? Oh!"

Victoria came to a complete stop when she saw her unexpected visitor. However, quickly composing herself, she walked down the stairs.

"Mr. Bridgeman – what a pleasant surprise! Won't you come in?" she asked, showing the way into the living room. Bridgeman followed, his hat clasped solemnly in his hands.

"Would you like a drink?" Victoria asked as the two of them sat down.

"I, ah – thank you, but no!"

"What can I do for you?"

"Mrs. Barkley – I… I don't know how to tell you this. Are you sure we are quite alone?"

"Yes – Mr. Bridgeman, what is bothering you? Can I help at all?"

"Oh, Mrs. Barkley! How can I even begin? But you must know, so I must tell you! I was riding along yesterday, minding my own business when I heard something. It sounded like a groan, and instantly feeling concerned that someone might be hurt, I followed the sound. It wasn't long until I came across the camp of your son and daughter."

Victoria started, quickly rising to her feet. "Heath and Rachel? What of it?" she asked, telling herself that nothing was amiss as she once more lowered herself back into her seat, steadying herself with her hand clasped on the arm of her chair.

"I quickly dismounted, noticing both your daughter and son lying on the ground. I heard the groan come again – it came from Heath – so I hurried next to his side. There was a bullet in his chest, and the blood was drenching his shirt quickly. As soon as he saw me, he told me what had happened. First of all he told me about the snake – it had bitten Rachel that morning, and she was lying unconscious next to him. Whilst tending to her a man had ridden by, demanding some retribution for something that he declared had happened years before. Heath didn't recognize the man, and as a gun was pointed at him, quickly drew his gun. He wasn't quick enough though, and that was how he got shot. Then, Mrs. Barkley, Heath went on to ask me to tell you what had happened. He asked me to tell you to read Luke…Luke 15 and verse 24. He then said to say that they both love you all, and even if they won't be there in person, they will always be in your hearts. Those were his last words."

"No!" Victoria exclaimed, her chin trembling in distraught disbelief as she began to rise from her chair. "No!"

"I'm sorry Mrs. Barkley! But I checked, and he had gone. Then I checked your daughter – and she had been gone for a while."

"No!" Victoria sobbed, the tears rushing down her cheeks. She sank back in her chair and buried her face in her hands. "No! My baby! Not my baby! Not Heath! Oh, dear God! No!"

Bridgeman stood up and put a hand on Victoria's arm in an attempt to appear a comforter. "Please Mrs. Barkley. Please be strong – I know they would want you to."

Victoria's body shook whilst the tears poured down her cheeks. She had not cried like this since the death of her husband – and now she felt that pain come over her once more.

"I buried them both out there – but I can take you there sometime. I should leave you now, though. I am sorry Mrs. Barkley. Very sorry!"

He turned around to leave, just as Nick entered the house.

"What's going on Mother?" Nick asked with concern when he saw her crying. He looked up at Bridgeman, and his face creased up with anger. "_You_," he said, pointing fiercely, "you are not welcome here! Get out of this house before I show you out myself!"

"I was just leaving Mr. Barkley. My condolences to you and your family."

Nick watched Bridgeman leave, and a frown of puzzlement grew on his face. Suddenly remembering his mother's grief, he hurried over to her side, and squatted next to her.

"Mother," he said, his softer side showing as he tenderly moved her trembling frame and held her close. She clung to him madly, which made him frown deeply. The way she held him – it brought back memories – memories of six years ago at the death of …

"Mother, what is it? Tell me? Did that man do anything to hurt you? If he did, I swear I'll…"

"Nick," Victoria sobbed. "Mr. Bridgeman came here to tell me that Heath and Rachel…" she paused before she could say those awful words, "that Heath and Rachel are both dead."

Nick lost his hold on his mother for an instant as everything around him became empty and vacant. Suddenly, Victoria's words came screaming back at him. "What?" he asked, finally able to speak. His voice caught in his throat. "What did you say?"

"Oh, Nick – your brother and sister are dead!"

"No!" Nick cried, standing up quickly. "How… how would he know?" He was trying to tell himself that Bridgeman was lying. He could be – couldn't he? Heath had been quite sure that Bridgeman was a counterfeiter. What would keep a base swindler from telling lies?

"He saw them. Oh, Nick – it's true! Rachel got bitten by a snake – and Heath got shot by somebody who wanted revenge. Oh, Nick! My baby's dead. Heath's dead! Oh, my little baby girl!"

And she sank down, down out of her chair and onto her knees, clasping her hands in front of her face as if in urgent prayer.

Nick suddenly realized that it was true. It had to be – but why? But how? All sorts of questions flooded his mind, deadened only by a numbness – a hollow leaden feeling that filled his brain and made him sink down onto his knees next to his mother. Nick held her close, trying to give her strength whilst trying to receive some comfort of his own as the tears began to fall.

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"Why hello, Audra," Jarrod's voice sounded behind her. Audra turned around, and saw her eldest brother mounted on Jingo, ready to go home.

"Jarrod!" Audra exclaimed. "You're going home?"

"Yes – I wonder, may I have the pleasure of the prettiest lady in town riding home with me?"

"Of course, Jarrod," Audra said, smiling at the compliment. "I was just finished myself."

She quickly mounted her horse, and rode up next to Jarrod.

"Had a good day?" Audra asked casually.

"Yes – and you?"

"Fine – although, I must admit, it does feel strange not going riding with Rachel to the Mokelumne River. It felt like the perfect day for that today – I wish she and Heath would come home soon."

"Don't worry, Honey – they'll be back before you know it!" Jarrod said with a smile.

"I guess you're right," Audra said.

The ride home was a pleasant one. They talked merrily, and it seemed like hardly any time had passed before they rode up outside the house. They dismounted their horses, leaving them to a ranch hand to take care of before they both walked into the house.

It was quiet. Dead quiet. Eerily and strangely quiet.

"Hey, where is everybody?" Jarrod called, a smile on his face despite a peculiar tugging at his heart.

Audra followed up behind Jarrod and slipped her arm into his. Suddenly, Nick appeared coming down the stairs. He was staring at his feet, and walking strangely, like a man who had had a few too many drinks and was unsure of where he was going.

"Hey, Nick," Jarrod said, "we thought the house had been deserted. Why's it so quiet?"

Nick looked up, and it was then that they saw the awful look in his eyes. An empty, sunken, bloodshot glaze!

"Nick – you look awful!" Audra exclaimed, almost recoiling at his far off gaze. "What is it?" She suddenly felt quite scared. That look brought back memories. Dreadful ones!

Jarrod saw that look – it was the same look that he had given Nick those six years before. The same look they had shared.

"Nick! What's happened? Is Mother sick?"

"No," Nick said. "She's not sick. At least, not like that. We've heard news about Heath and Rachel." His voice was hoarse.

Audra found herself shuddering.

"What is Nick?" Jarrod asked.

"Mr. Bridgeman," Nick murmured in empty tones. "He found them." He looked slowly into Jarrod's eyes. "They're dead."

Audra stepped back as if she had been knocked by a heavy weight. Jarrod just stared at Nick.

Audra's chest heaved heavily. She shook her head, her mouth open in silent protest. Her mind was dashing about wildly with thoughts. They couldn't be dead. Just two days ago they had left the house – happy, healthy. They couldn't be dead! Surely not!

"No!" she finally found her words. "They can't be. I'll prove it. I'll go and find them myself!" and she made a dash for the door.

In that one moment, Jarrod realized that if he didn't step in and stop her, then Audra would ride off by herself. She could get lost. It would only add an extra worry on top of their troubles. He didn't know how he managed to think so clearly – but he did. And as soon as those thoughts came into his mind, he rushed after Audra before she had taken a step out of the house, and held her by the arms.

"Audra – there's nothing you can do!"

"Let go of me!" she cried, trying to twist herself out of his hold whilst the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Let go Jarrod! I've got to find them! I've got to bring them home!"

"Listen to me," Jarrod said, speaking to himself as much as to Audra. "You can't bring them home." The tears found their way into his voice. "You can't bring them home Audra!" he said firmly. His voice died down to a hoarse whisper. "They're not coming home."

Audra's face wrinkled up with a sob. She stopped thrashing about, and simply fell against Jarrod, sobbing into his chest.

Jarrod stood there, like a statue. His moment of thinking clearly had come and gone – and now all that was left in his mind was a dull throbbing.

He looked across at Nick. "Where's Mother?" he asked as the tears threatened to fall.

"In her room. She cried so much that she collapsed with exhaustion in my arms. I carried her upstairs. She's not asleep – she's just staring into space."

Audra pulled herself out of Jarrod's now loose hold. "I'm going to Mother," she said, the tears blurring her view as she hurried up the stairs to give comfort to and receive comfort from the figure that had shown so much strength through the years – through whatever had come their way.

Jarrod looked at Nick, and their eyes spoke so many things to each other that words could not express at that time.

Finally, Nick could bear it no longer. "I've got to see them with my own eyes before I can really believe it!" He left the house, slamming the front door behind him as he went.

The news had come as such a shock – perhaps if any of them had been in their right minds then they would have wondered why Bridgeman had buried Heath and Rachel instead of leaving the bodies for the family to identify and bury for themselves. Perhaps they would have rushed out to see for themselves whether what Bridgeman had said was true or not – but the sudden shock and grief had overwhelmed them so much that it was only now that Nick could get his head around checking it out for himself.

Jarrod would have followed if he had heard Nick – but his brother's words fell on deaf ears. Ears that heard words, and yet did not comprehend them! And a mind that kept out all thoughts except one; that dreadful overpowering understanding that was complete confusion at the same time.

Jarrod walked slowly into the living room. His legs seemed stiff – he could hardly walk. He made his way over to the table and poured himself a drink. The glass overfilled, some of the scotch spilling onto the table. Jarrod didn't notice – he couldn't see. A hazy blur had covered his eyes. He found himself walking over to the fireplace – staring at where later some flames would leap merrily as if to challenge their sorrow.

Heath and Rachel were both dead!

Jarrod's shoulders began to shake. As the tears trickled down his cheeks, he clenched his fist so tightly that the glass of scotch in his hand shattered. With a final force of passion, Jarrod threw the fragments of glass into the hearth, and then sank back wearily into a chair, and wept.

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**I hope that was written okay. It was a bit difficult to describe all of the emotions - but I hope I painted the picture okay! Thanks again to everyone for following my story and reading and reviewing! You don't know how much I appreciate it! Rachel D :-)**


	12. Hope

**I hope you like this chapter! :-)**

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**Chapter 12 – Hope**

Jarrod was still in that recumbent position, staring with hollow eyes at the empty hearth, when Audra came downstairs. Her cheeks were red, her eyes swollen. She sat down on the chaise, and curled up on it, into a tight, protective ball as she drew her knees close to her, and rested her chin on them. They both sat there in silence. They had no words to say. Brains were dull, hearts ached, and life was horrid.

Suddenly, a creaking at the top of the stair brought Jarrod and Audra out of their oblivion. Looking up, they saw Victoria steadying herself by holding onto the top banister. Her eyes were tired and worn, but there was a dull excitement that shone in them now.

Jarrod found himself rising out of his chair, wondering at that look in her eyes.

"They're not dead!"

Victoria's words sounded like a lie or a promise, perhaps both at once. They made Jarrod's and Audra's hearts leap and sink at the same time.

"What do you mean?" Jarrod asked, in a voice that betrayed a sense of loss.

"They're not dead, Jarrod!" Victoria said, tears running down her cheeks in desperate relief as she began to descend the stairs on unsteady limbs.

"How do you know?" Jarrod's voice shook. Could it be that, after all, they were alive? But Bridgeman had said … had Bridgeman even told the truth?

"Mr. Bridgeman said… Heath… he asked Mr. Bridgeman to tell us a…a verse."

"A verse?" Audra asked, letting her legs move down as she straightened into a proper sitting position.

"It was Luke…Luke 15 and verse 24." She lifted a Bible that she had been holding onto, and read in a trembling voice, "It says, 'for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found'." Victoria looked up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes, "'and they began to be merry'."

Jarrod remained speechless. He didn't know what to think or say. Had Heath used that to tell them somehow that he was still alive? Why hadn't Mr. Bridgeman said that? Did Mr. Bridgeman want them to think that Heath and Rachel were dead? If so, then why did he pass on what Heath had asked them to say?

"Now Mother, don't raise a false hope for yourself," Jarrod said, stepping towards her.

Victoria descended the last few steps. "They _are_ alive Jarrod! They are! And we're going to find them. We're going to bring them home!" She paused a moment and looked around her. "Where's Nick."

Jarrod frowned, "I don't know." Then, remembering the words that he had heard but not registered, he said, "Wait – he went out to look for them. He didn't want to believe Bridgeman…"

"Do you think Bridgeman is really the counterfeiter and tried to kill Heath or something like that, you know, because of what Heath said?" Audra finally spoke up.

Jarrod wasn't sure what to think. Ideas of hope and calamity were rushing upon him, but whilst there was still hope, he determined to hold onto it tight, for all he was worth! "I don't know, Honey," he said. "But we're going to find out. Come on – we're going to see if Bridgeman told the truth or not."

Victoria closed her eyes in a moment's relief, glad that Jarrod didn't seem to think that she was clutching at straws. "Silas!" she called. "Silas!"

The old man dutifully appeared, his face worn by the recent sorrow. "Yes, Mrs. Barkley?"

"Silas – we think Heath and Rachel might still be alive, but they might be in trouble. We're going to look for them."

Silas's face lit up, "You really think so, Mrs. Barkley?"

"Yes, Silas. Nick's already gone on ahead, but we're going to follow him up now. Just pray as hard as you ever did that they're still alive and that we'll get to them in time."

"Mother, you're not in a fit condition to ride. It would be much better if you and Audra stayed here. I'll catch up with Nick, and…"

"Jarrod, there is no way that I am staying here. They are my daughter, and my son, and I will not stay here and wonder whether they are alive or dead whilst you and Nick search for them. Nothing could keep me here – I think I would go crazy if I tried."

"I'm going too," Audra declared, jumping up from the chaise.

"Alright," Jarrod relented. "Let's go."

And so, hurrying out of the house and getting their horses, the rest of the family rode off in search of Heath and Rachel!

* * *

After Bridgeman had left, Stevenson and Stott had fallen up all the liquor in the shack like riotous besiegers of a town. Drinking themselves almost senseless – their love of 'oh-be-joyful' took precedence in their mind over the job in hand.

"Besides," Stott had surmised to his fellow worker, "the girl ain't dead yet! There's no harm in a man having a bit of drink. Once we're through this stuff, she'll be dead, and we can do ev'rythin' the boss said to do."

Stevenson had readily agreed, his eyes wide with thirst.

Heath had hoped against hopes, and prayed hard, that they would drink themselves into a stupor, but much to his disappointment, no matter how much they drank, and how drowsy they became, they failed to knock themselves out.

Once they were thoroughly drunk from draining all the bottles of whiskey in the one-roomed line shack, they murmured to themselves in slurring voices about the men they had killed over the years, women they had met in saloons along the way, and boasting about the many times they had got drunk.

Finally they stumbled out of their chairs and ambled drowsily towards their captives.

"Sh…she dead yet?" Stott said sneeringly, struggling to get his words out as his eyelids drooped sleepily.

"No!" Heath shot out menacingly, standing in front of Rachel as if to protect her from these men – this new and present danger. "No she's not! And she can still live if you give her a chance. Let us live – let me take her home!"

The men grinned at each other. "I'll take him – you shoot the girl," Stott declared.

Stevenson shrugged, "Fine by me."

Stott drew his gun and walked up to Heath, so that only a few feet stood between them.

"You need to get that close?" Heath asked, trying to waste time by talking as he searched around the room for something to throw at them. "Can't you shoot straight?"

Suddenly, his eyes fell upon something next to the bed – the canteen that Rachel had had a drink from! Of course! He looked back at Stott and saw the anger in his drunken eyes. He didn't have much time. Quickly picking up the canteen, Heath threw it at Stott's head, grabbing the gun from him at the same time.

Stevenson drew his gun, but Heath shot him in the leg before he had a chance to use it! Stott lay on the floor, senseless from a mixture of drink and the knock on the head. Heath quickly looked around the room. Some rope hung from a nail, so he used that to tie both of the men up in knots that would be nigh on impossible for them to untie. Then, quickly retrieving his own gun from Stevenson's belt, he hurried back to Rachel's side.

Quickly scooping her up, Heath carried Rachel out of the house. He found his horse where they had left it, and mounted up, with Rachel held firmly in his arms to keep her from falling.

"Don't worry little sister," Heath said as he squeezed his horse on. "Hang on! Hang on tight! I'm taking you home!"

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed! Please review! :-)**


	13. Home

**Here we go! The last chapter! :-)**

* * *

**Chapter 13 – Home**

As Heath rode along, holding onto Rachel tightly, he could have sworn that he heard a horse approaching. Looking ahead in the rising dawn, he could just make out a figure riding towards them.

A familiar rider!

A horse that Heath had seen before!

"Nick!" Heath cried.

The rider came to a complete stop, and Heath cantered up to him. Nick could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Heath.

"Heath!" he exclaimed. "You're alive! I knew it wasn't true. You're alright!" Nick was about to dismount, but Heath's next words made him stop.

"Yes, I am," Heath said, "but Rachel isn't. I've got to get her back to the house. You ride on for Stockton, and get Doctor Merar!"

Nick suddenly saw Rachel's pale face. "Then that part was true!"

"Yes – so hurry!"

Nick galloped off in the direction of Stockton – and Heath carried on towards the ranch.

The ride seemed an eternity to Heath. All he could think was one danger had passed for them – but the shadow that the snakebite had cast over Rachel, threatening her life, still had not passed.

* * *

The sun had risen higher now – another day had come. Victoria, Jarrod and Audra galloped onwards. They were following the tracks that Nick's horse had made. He had known which way Heath had gone – it was the same trail that they had used together before.

Another rider suddenly galloped into view. Before Jarrod or Audra could make out who it was, Victoria had ridden swiftly towards him.

"Heath!" she exclaimed, dismounting Misty Gal and hurrying to her son's side. Tears of relief sprang to her eyes. "Heath – you're alright! I knew you were! The verse – I knew you were trying to tell me something!"

She stopped short when she saw Rachel.

"What happened?"

"A rattlesnake bit her – she's had it bad…"

"Of course," Victoria exclaimed. "He said!"

"Bridgeman?" Heath asked, the contempt showing plainly in his voice. By now Jarrod and Audra had ridden up.

"Heath!" Audra cried, the relief evident on her face. "We thought you were dead!"

"Bridgeman said you were!" Jarrod said. "What happened Heath? Are you alright? Does Bridgeman have a lot to do with this?!"

"He does," Heath said. "But I'll tell you when we get back home. Nick's gone on to Stockton to get Doctor Merar for Rachel. We need to get her back to the ranch."

With that the family, now reunited, turned their horses and headed for the Barkley ranch.

* * *

"Where do you think you are going?" Heath's voice made Rachel jump.

It had been two days since Rachel and Heath had come home. Bridgeman had gone to jail, and was presently awaiting his trial, along with the other two men who had been retrieved from the line shack.

Rachel was fed up of having to stay in bed! Now Heath had discovered her sneaking out of her bedroom.

"Doctor Merar said you need to rest that leg!"

"Oh, poppycock! I'll feel much better if I go riding or something! I'm going outside!"

"Oh, no you're not!" Heath said, steering her back into her room. "You're going back to bed!"

He pushed her into a sitting position on her bed. "Now get in!"

Rachel's eyes twinkled merrily. "Uh, uh!" Rachel said, shaking her head.

Heath put his hands on his hips. "Now did you just say 'no'?"

"Yes I did!" Rachel said. "I'm tired of being in bed – and I won't stay in another minute!"

"Oh, yes you will," and Heath scooped up Rachel's legs and swung them onto the bed, quickly tucking the bedspread round her. "Audra will be up soon to tell you all about the plans for the orphanage, and…"

"Oh, Heath – stop teasing me! You know if she goes through that with me one more time I'll scream!"

Heath grinned. Audra had already shown Rachel countless times all the plans for the new children's orphanage. Rachel had born it well, but Heath could tell that if she was shown one more time, then she would explode! "Well, I'll tell you what, Silas has just baked some apple pie. If I go and get you some, do you promise to stay in bed?"

Rachel hesitated. She loved apple pie! She'd just love some! But she didn't want to stay in bed. Was there a way that she could answer without promising?

"I'd love some apple pie! Yes, please Heath!"

"Alright," Heath grinned. "But you stay right there!"

Rachel watched smilingly as he left the room. She hadn't agreed to anything! Besides, how was her leg supposed to get better without getting exercised? Throwing back her covers, Rachel hopped out of bed and over to her window, which she quickly opened. She took in great gulps of fresh Californian air. The sun shone invitingly on her face. She closed her eyes and tried to soak in the sun and fresh air for a moment! Ah – she had missed this!

Quickly looking around to check that no one was in sight, Rachel climbed out of the window, and down onto the tree that stood next to it.

She had climbed it dozens of times before – just not with a bad leg. Eugene had taught her how. It was her little escape route!

Easing herself carefully down the boughs of the tree, Rachel finally landed on firm ground. Her spirit souring with freedom, she hurried across the yard, half limping-half running – and ran right into Nick!

"What are you doing out of bed?" he demanded.

"Just having a breath of fresh air, Nick – that's all!"

"In your nightgown?"

Rachel looked down at her clothes, and realized that she hadn't thought of putting anything suitable on. Why had she been so stupid?

"Who gave you permission?" Nick asked.

"I did!"

Nick hid his smile of amusement, "_You_ gave yourself permission?!"

"Yes, that's right! I am tired of being in bed – and I know you would be just the same if you were in my position. As that is the case, I would appreciate it if…"

"Rachel!"

Both Nick and Rachel looked up to her bedroom window where Heath was looking out, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"You said you'd stay in bed!"

"I never said anything of the sort!" Rachel retorted. "I said I wanted apple pie, but I never promised that I would stay in bed whilst you got it."

Heath shook his head. "Nick, our little sister is impossible!"

"You're telling me!" Nick said. "What shall we do with her?"

"Do you think an extra day in bed will do the trick?"

"No!" Rachel exclaimed. "You can't do that!"

Nick winked at Heath. "Yep, that seems to fit the crime! Come on," he said, swinging her up and over his shoulder. "Back to bed!"

"Nick, you put me down! I'll tell Mother! And Jarrod! And…"

Nick just laughed. He carried her into the house and up the stairs. Before Rachel knew it, he dropped her down on her bed.

"Nick! How could you?! That was mean! I'm tired of being in bed – and I won't stay in here another day! I swear I won't!"

Nick and Heath just grinned.

"You're both impossible! That's what you are!" Rachel declared, folding her arms across her chest, and trying to act cross. She wasn't really. She found it very hard to be cross with her brothers – especially when she knew they were just teasing her.

Suddenly Audra came into the room. She was carrying with her a little plan of the new orphanage.

Rachel slapped her forehead and fell back onto the bed with a groan.

"Rachel? What is it? What's wrong?" Audra asked.

"Nothing!" Rachel said. "Just – never ever get bitten by a snake!"

Nick and Heath burst out laughing.

"It's not funny!" Rachel said, sitting up straight and glaring at them. She sighed and continued ruefully, "Not funny at all! Even if it was an adventure, this is the last time that I ever want to get mixed up with serpents and swindlers!"

**The End**

* * *

**Well, I hope you liked it. I will do my utmost to write another BV story soon - probably Rachel's bday (and something out of the ordinary happens to make it a birthday she will never forget!). Well see! :-) Well, I want to thank you all for reading. Please review - I really appreciate it! Rachel D :-)**


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